Starcross'd
by Child of the Ashes
Summary: In the vampire palace of Los Noches, there is no greater curse than beauty, and no greater crime than love. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Starcross'd

Warnings: Violence, gore, heavy sexual content.

Rating: **M**

.o()o.

Part One

Deathmark'd

'o()o'

.

Chapter One

.

She was calling.

So he ran.

But it was more like falling. More like the world dropping out from beneath his feet. Tugged and yanked, he always moved toward her. Pulled forward by invisible strings. She plucked his heart at will. Sent reverberations through his head and limbs and straight down to his soul.

Deep like gravity. Her gravity. _Her_.

There was no choice. It wasn't a decision he'd made. It'd never mattered if he wanted to go, _he had to_.

Had to find sunlit copper curls and eyes like crushed ash.

She was _calling_.

Her screams echoed through the stone chambers, louder than his own swift feet beating the ground, louder than the blood rushing in his ears. Marble hallways were mazes and closing walls, but he'd always been faster and stronger than the others.

It didn't matter, he wasn't racing them.

And he could feel fate tighten around his neck, chocking and binding.

Then he broke free into fire.

His world became fire. It became the flames reflected in silver eyes.

It turned them violet. An impossible shade, and he couldn't look away. Couldn't move as her hair wavered with the wind, billowing in the firestorm surrounding her, then caught fire. He watched her face twist, agony clawing behind her eyes, mouth parted to scream. And even then, _even then, _she was so beautiful it hurt.

Like a knife lodged under his ribs, piercing everything vital.

And at last, he was free, cut from the paralysis holding him as fear crashed down.

No. No.

_No_.

As soon as it registered, he rejected it. She couldn't go like this. Not like his family. She was all he had left. She _was_ his family. There was no world for him that didn't have her in it. How would he'd ever find her again?

He was before her in the next breath. And he saw it then— what his eyes didn't want to show him. Her skin… burned away, the delicate muscles and bones of her arms born to sight.

He choked on smoke.

His eyes blurred, and screaming, he plunged into the fire.

Flames licked at his skin, searing and burning hair and flesh as though it were paper, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but getting her free, and the chains broke under his strength. He didn't even feel the heat any longer, strength bleeding away with the tattered remains of his clothing. He staggered back, clutching her, calling her name as her head lolled.

Her lips formed his name, breathed it over him, and he broke.

Eyes flit between the wounds marring her perfect face and down her body. Hands hovered over cherished flesh, uncertain. There wasn't any place to touch that wouldn't lead to more suffering.

He tore at orange strands, cried out again, unaware of it until she found his lips with small fingers and silenced him.

His eyes widened and his breath stopped when charred tips grazed over his cheek then fell away as she coughed blood.

For a moment, for a few stolen seconds, he just looked.

Then she smiled, flayed him with more fury than a thousand burning suns, twisting broken dreams through his core and strangling his heart.

Her lashes fluttered, settled against pale cheeks, and she lay still.

And everything he was died with her.

-o-

Pitching into a sitting position, Ichigo gasped.

His eyes darted from corner to corner, searching for flames and enemies and a blood covered female who's name he'd screamed more times than he could count, but never remembered.

Around him, there was nothing but darkness. Shadows and the stylish taupe walls his mother had painted last spring.

But no fire. No girl.

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking and panting, trying to stop his heart hammering against the wall of his chest, and keep his stomach from leading a violent revolt.

That… That fucking _dream_.

One hand clinched deep into orange bangs, scraping over the cold sweat on his forehead. He tugged, let the pain pull him further into awareness. The other hand had curled into a fist. His fingers tightened, and even as he brought it up to his face and stared at it, he'd almost swear he could still feel what had been clutched there in the dream.

It was always the same.

Whatever it was, it was so important. Small and hard enough to cut with the force of his grip. _He could feel it._ Even now. He should know what it was. Like a word that stuck on the tip of his tongue, but with a memory instead.

"_Fuck_."

Ichigo gave a harsh sigh and fell back to his pillow, releasing bangs to let his hand drag over his face.

He was soaked in icy sweat, and the next second, he'd flung the thick, down covers off. He felt the need to move, but was far too exhausted to crawl from the large four-poster bed as he stared at the cloth canopy and tried to recapture his breath.

Slowly, Ichigo brought his closed fist back to his face. Narrowing his eyes, he opened one finger at a time to reveal nothing but empty palm.

-o-

Orihime Inoue huddled in the far corner of her late brother's library, eyes wide as she stared at the page of her book.

Pieces of auburn bangs fell free from the pair of jeweled, blue hairpins that adorned her temples as her lips moved with the words. Her breathing was quick, feet pulled up into the chair under her.

Eyes wide, she flipped another page.

The heat burning her cheeks intensified a degree as she read, pausing to lick her lips at the evocative sentence.

How had a book like this even come to be in Sora's library? Orihime almost giggled at the thought of her brother purchasing such a scandalous story. Flipping it over, she looked at the cover before going back to her paragraph. And this was supposed to be a historical account? It read more like one of Chizuru's tirades on the horrors of the male gender. Except with an entire race.

She laughed, but stifled it by biting her lip.

When she'd found it, the title was what captured her interest. For it wasn't often one chanced across a volume covering such a taboo subject. But as she read, it began to fascinate her in other ways.

The author alluded quite openly to bedroom matters, something forbidden any young woman with a conventional upbringing. Ainoko would throw a tantrum if she knew something like this existed in the house.

Orihime, however, was fascinated.

The wall clock over the writing desk chimed, but she couldn't be bothered to check the hour. It was late. She already knew it was, because to her awareness, she was the only person in the house not tucked away into bed. But reading had always been a passion of hers, and even though it lit her cheeks and twisted her stomach with embarrassment to browse this sort of a… _carnal_ tale, she wasn't quite prepared to leave it.

It called to something inside her. Something tucked deep in her soul. Like a toy hidden under a blanket, she could make out the shape… She could _almost_ see it… But it was elusive all the same.

Like all children, she'd been educated in their history. Or the basics. What _women_ were told, she supposed. The empire had strict rules about that. Patriotism started with loyalty to the king, and knowing what he'd done for them all, was the first thing taught. But it seemed there was more. Things that no self-respecting governess would ever teach her pupil.

Orihime had never heard of such acts as these creatures committed. Stealing into a victims' rooms in the night, carrying off virgin captives, never mind their dietary staple... If she met such a creature, what would it do to her?

A wicked thrill flit through her stomach and she curled bare toes. Visions of a forbidden rendezvous danced in her mind.

The book hinted at a mystery she'd never given much thought— although she was almost a grown woman— and now that she'd started, she couldn't stop. Within a few short months, she'd likely be married off to some stranger.

The days ticked ever closer to her eighteenth birthday, and her stepmother preened her more and more. She felt like the prize livestock in the market being prettied up for show. And if what Chizuru said could be trusted, soon, she'd be thrown into a man's bedroom and ravished. Enslaved for life. He'd fall on her like some wild animal and have his way— whatever that meant.

It sounded frightening. But, maybe just a little, it was also exciting. Or it _would be_ if she just knew what to be excited _about_. Maybe she was only excited about the thought of an adventure.

What would happen to her? What did a husband demand of a wife? She'd no idea, and when she asked, Ainoko chided her. But how did they expect her to know what to do if she wasn't told? It was as if some secret existed that everyone was in on except her…

Orihime was starting to have some considerable doubts about the whole affair.

Not that anyone would listen.

Flipping the book closed, Orihime sighed, squishing down the naughty voice that whispered for her to finish the volume.

Whether she found sleep or not, it'd be best to go back to bed. If her stepmother learnt she'd been sneaking to the library after twilight, she'd be punished. Ainoko already tried her hardest to deter Orihime's reading. The privilege might be lost altogether if she were discovered. And if the subject of her newest fascination were chanced upon—

Standing, Orihime padded to the far corner and examined the bookcases along the walls, looking for a place out of the way before she slipped the book onto a low shelf, pressing it just a bit farther back so that it wasn't within the direct line of sight.

That would have to do. She couldn't hide it in her things. Her possessions were so few, Ainoko would find it in a single afternoon.

Dusting her hands, she straightened with a smile, taking a lamp and making her way back to her rooms.

She passed along the myriad of portraits that lined the stairs. Where in a normal house, they might have been relatives or ancestors of the lineage, here they were merely faces, paintings acquired by her stepmother to give the appearance of heritage without any such merit. There were entire days when Orihime suspected Ainoko was trying to recreate the family she'd never had.

Oh, how she missed her brother…

When he'd lived and she'd been under his care, things were happier. They practiced truth, not secrets. He'd explained any subject she'd ever been curious about with scrupulous detail, going so far as to teach her math and sciences, literature from faraway places. Orihime even knew how to read a map, much to her delight and her stepmother's horror.

But those times were gone. Her brother had been dead for over two years, and she'd been taken in by her stepfather and his new wife, Ainoko. Adopted even, and soon, she would be married.

-o-

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez stood on the steps of a club called The Silver Dagger, standing over the gambling pit below him, hunting for his next victim. There were so many of the fuckin' fools to pick from, he almost couldn't choose.

Plenty of easy targets waiting to be parted from their money.

His lips curled from his teeth. He hated places like this.

The floor bustled with the city's wealthiest gentlemen cutting loose from society and the strict norms that governed daylight hours. Whores and gambling. It was the height of entertainment among the affluent male aristocracy. If a person had the money to drop and the connections to get in, it was the single best place in the city to find something to eat, fight, or fuck. Since he'd already done the fucking, Grimm didn't much care which came next— as long as it came on someone else's dime.

A wide grin curved his lips and caused the other men descending the stairs around him to squish to either side in an attempt to avoid his notice.

With good reason, too.

Most of them knew his reputation. Had heard of his slightly crazed sense of what a good time entailed. And if the indignant mutterings were any indication, they'd managed to hear a bit of it for themselves upstairs. Not that he gave one good goddamn for any of their estimations of him. He'd always cut sideways across the grain of society and he liked it that way.

The clock to his right over the bar gave two strikes and he took another few steps down.

Agile movement and dark hair caught his eye from the side, and he looked to see Tsukishima drifting through the din. Their eyes touched for a brief second before the man disappeared back into the crowd.

He growled, but he made no attempt to engage the unsettling prick. Blood or not, he gave Grimmjow the creeps.

There was a rustle of fabric and a man stopped coming down the stairs behind him, fixing his clothing back into place and shaking him from his thoughts. Grimmjow almost recoiled at the smell of sex that lingered, trying his best to ignore the man as he cleared his throat and attempted to strike up a conversation.

"That was quite the commotion going on upstairs."

Grimmjow said nothing. If this guy heard all that and was still taking a stab at speaking to him, he didn't know who he was dealing with.

"Nearly lost my… resolve."

Reconsidering the impulse to walk away, Grimmjow continued his perusal, lips twitching from disgust into a lopsided smirk. He never got tired of this. "Was it?"

Below, the crowd cheered and clapped a small, black-haired male while he laughed and raked up his winnings from the table. The damned fool shoved them straight into his pockets, scattering loose coins as he wound an arm around a house prostitute, his drink sloshing from the other.

The man beside him scoffed at his answer. "Didn't you hear the poor girl? Sounded like she was being beaten with a whip."

"Hn. Just a crop."

"I… I beg your pardon?"

Grimmjow's smile grew, showing teeth as he tilted his head back to look at his newest annoyance from the corner of his eye. He enunciated the words. "A crop."

The man paused, leaning away and studying him before holding out his hand. "Sora Inoue."

Grimm raised a brow at the well-known name, but the man only gave a wry smirk back.

"Not the one you're thinking, I'm afraid. The _Lord _SoraInouewas my son."

The man let his hand fall when Grimmjow made no move to take it, but didn't seem discouraged as he sipped from his drink. Cognac or whiskey, Grimm couldn't tell.

"Disconcerting for me as well, I'll admit. I can hardly introduce myself anywhere without having to make a show of it." He gave a conspiratorial smile and tapped his nose. "Actually, I've taken to going by Sorame, instead. Less undesirable explanations that way."

Grimm gave another grunt, wondering which misfortunate act on his part had caused this man to decide he liked him enough to continue talking. He didn't take to most people on good days, but this guy seemed undeterable. But maybe he was just stupid.

Blue eyes dropped, taking in Sorame head to toe.

On the surface, he was nothing impressive. Forgettable even. Typical straight, shoulder length black hair and matching eyes, fine cut clothes, and manicured nails. The rigid posture of a board. A little past middle aged if Grimm was guessing. But he knew another predator when he saw one. This man was not only hunting, but the fool had started a conversation with him for a reason.

That was a mistake. He didn't let people fuck with him and walk away unscathed.

He narrowed his eyes. "Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

Sorame raked his memory for the name.

It sounded somewhat familiar. He knew most of the city's political families and their crests, but this man didn't wear any such defining marks. Not that it was any matter. He'd find that out later. He had a good feeling about this one. What with this Grimmjow's unusually bright hair and eyes... Sorame wasn't a heavy gambler himself, but he was willing to bet his own money this young, blue-haired noble was just the sort of man he wanted.

It wouldn't hurt to dangle the bait.

"A pleasure." He reached into his coat and handed him a calling card. "It so happens, I'm also the proprietor of my stepdaughter's estate, the Lady Orihime Inoue… You've heard of her?"

When Grimmjow made no affirmative, he took it as a no, the beginnings of irritation forming. The blue-haired man wasn't making any of the standard polite concessions. Sorame was half-tempted to move on and cut this Grimmjow fellow out of his financial proposition, but he held his impatience in check.

"Yes, well, her seventeenth birthday was last month, and she's finally entering into the courting games."

Grimmjow took the card, glancing over it before handing it back.

"Son's a Lord. Your daughter's a Lady. No titles for you?"

Sorame felt his neck stiffen at the slight, but he continued smiling. This fool had no idea the trouble he was courting. His wild youth didn't stand a snowball's chance against a man of the law. "_Stepdaughter_. And no, unfortunately. Titles only travel down, Jaegerjaquez-san, not up. My son was granted his seat at court for services to the king. When he died, the title passed to his step-sister. His last will and testament upheld at the king's behest."

He'd almost succeeded at keeping the heat from his voice as he raised his glass.

Grimmjow didn't seem to care either way. He snorted and started down the steps, forcing Sorame to trail after or else be left behind. Clearly, he hadn't managed to capture the man's interest. Perhaps he wasn't in the financial strains Sorame supposed.

He pressed his lips in displeasure before he followed Grimmjow's gaze, smiling when he noticed the unfortunate lad it had landed upon. Bright blue eyes palmed over the sack of gold the lad was trying to cram back into his coat pocket. And there was more than a small amount of hunger in that stare. Like a stalking animal sizing up its dinner.

Sorame sneered. He knew it. He wasn't the only one out looking for some poor sod tonight.

Exasperating or not, this Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was just the… _eccentric_ type that would no doubt appeal to Orihime.

_Orihime_.

Damnation, even thinking about the girl caused his gut to twist.

If it weren't for the vast fortune and title she'd inherited from his dead son, he would've thrown her into an orphanage long ago. But Sora had left _everything_ to her. _Everything_. All of it written off to his illegitimate step-sister and not a single gold coin to his own father. And worse, that devastating will he'd left held up in the courts, drawing notice and forcing Sorame to take over Orihime's guardianship and finances, lest _he_ be the one out on the street.

As if his wife needed more reason to condemn him.

Ainoko gave him her clear opinion on her views of him as a provider before he'd left the house, sitting by her bedside, dragging a brush through unnaturally dark hair.

"Sorame, you know how I hate to criticize. But once again, your Orihime has passed up an invitation from a gentleman only to lock herself away in the library with those appalling books. All of that study can't be healthy. She's already hard enough to manage as it is, I don't need those books stuffing her delicate mind with fanciful ideas. I think we should get rid of the library. Perhaps turn it into a sitting room."

He glanced up from his letter at the word "your". It was a not-so-subtle reminder that Orihime was _his baggage_. His fingers tightened on his communiqué as he observed Ainoko tying her hair back before she secured it under a cloth wrap. Her fingers found the neck to her shirt making sure it still buttoned up to the top.

When she turned, his mouth pinched.

On an otherwise beautiful woman, the only exposed skin was from chin to forehead. Just as well. It was her way of telling him not to hope for the kind of marital favors a man might expect during the night. Sins of the flesh stood at the top of Ainoko's list of taboos.

Not that she'd ever had the beauty of Orihime's birth mother. That woman had turned men's heads from across the room. In fact, she'd been so good at it, that she'd been turning them regularly on the side.

Not only had that whore had the gall to have affairs, but she'd also the audacity to keep the wretched child that resulted. Sorame wasn't stupid. The child was a bribery tool. Her way of keeping him in check lest the secret slip out.

He'd tried everything in his power to get her to take the medicine that would rid them both of the unsavory complication. However, in the end, he'd been forced to acknowledge Orihime as his own or admit that his wife had crawled into another man's bed. But the name on the certificate of birth was blank, and after his son's death, he'd quietly signed the paperwork adopting her as his stepdaughter, putting her fortune into his capable stewardship.

Sorame took a deep breath and reminded himself that his previous wife had been buried for ten years. She'd been strangled in her sleep by what the constable concluded to be a random act of violence.

Although, Sora hadn't been as easily persuaded. The damn boy had always had his suspicions. At least, until he also met his end in an unfortunate accident. But what had Sorame gotten from it? _Nothing_.

He'd thought of a hundred schemes to separate Orihime from her inheritance, but she was so intelligent that only the shrewdest plans slid under her notice. Sorame had to be careful for fear she'd discover his intentions before he was successful.

Turning away, he tucked the letter into the drawer of his standing chest.

Sora's collection of books was worth a small fortune. It'd be easy enough to sell off, and even easier to deposit the funds into his personal accounts. It was his due, after all, for what he'd been forced to endure.

He nodded. "I agree. It's a poor influence. I'll get rid of it."

"I don't know what Sora was thinking. Taking the girl under his wing after their mother passed was one thing, but educating her? Seriously, Sorame, it's hardly proper. What if it gets into the public ear? We'll never have her married off." She shook her head. "And I am forced to impress upon Orihime, _again_, that she must hide her education at all costs."

With another huffed sigh, Sorame shrugged from his jacket.

Ainoko stiffened, turning to look at him. "You're coming to bed?"

He almost smiled at the panic in her voice. If his first wife had been a whore, Ainoko was the exact opposite. She was a prude and a bitch, but at least, she was a smart bitch.

"No. I have business to attend. I'll be out late."

They both knew it was a lie. The only business he had was with an experienced house prostitute and a glass of cognac. She nodded though, and reassured that he wouldn't be satisfying his needs with her body, she slipped beneath the sheets, keeping her floor-length dressing gown covering her ankles until she settled into place.

Shaking himself back to the present, Sorame watched from the sidelines as Grimmjow moved away, inserting himself into a crowd, easily talking his way to food and drink at someone else's expense. When he left, his arm was slung over a man's shoulders. Sorame guessed it was a ruse to part him from the rest of his funds, and who knew what else.

He smiled after them.

This Grimmjow character was a man after his own heart.

-o-

_Goddamn it... _

Tossing his pen down, Ichigo pushed back from his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, dragging his thumb up to scrub at the tense muscles in his forehead. He'd just signed the same missive twice. That made the third one this morning.

He snatched it up and flung it into the growing pile of documents that would need to be redrafted before frowning at them.

He'd had _that_ dream again.

The one that always haunted him for days afterwards.

Ichigo sighed and rested his head between his thumb and forefingers, turning toward the window. His chest was tight just from thinking of it.

Something was wrong with him. He knew it. He'd known for years that it was strange to have dreams about a person he'd never even met, but it wasn't like he was able to control them. When he was inside the dream, it was as if he was someone else.

And then there was _her_.

The girl with the hair the color of twisting fire.

She was always there. The center of his focus.

And the dreams weren't all bad. Most were pleasant enough, enjoyable enough. In one, she was weaving through underbrush, running, trying to keep up. In another, she waded into a bath. In another, tears dripped down to her chin. But in most of them— almost all of them— she was smiling. The simplest thing, but so powerful it devastated him. Because he knew she smiled for him.

Ichigo sighed again, closing his eyes and trying to conjure up her face. But like always, it was blurry, just flashes of silver eyes and heavy lashes, the vague notion of soft, pink lips. Never anything concrete.

And that was fine. Ridiculous as it sounded, he'd accepted it. Had long since stopped fighting it. He even enjoyed them. _Usually_.

Then there were the times he had the dream that haunted him.

The one where he found her bound, chained to a post and caught in a torrent of fire that made her hair a living torch. And he's paralyzed for what seems like forever, seeing every tongue of flame licking across soft, white flesh. And as the fire burns, it eats away at the cloth over her mouth. She screams—

Ichigo stood.

This was stupid. They were just dreams. A stupid dream that never happened. He would _know_ if he met a girl like that. She was attractive, but it wasn't just looks or some fake sense of beauty that women seemed intent on capturing. She was beautiful from the inside out. Something that came from the heart, _and dammit_… Why was he even _doing_ this?

_She is not real._

The swift fall of footsteps reached his ears, and Ichigo didn't need to turn to see who it was.

He unclenched his fists, but didn't move to face his guest, still looking through the window. Grimm could read him like a child's school book. Something that annoyed him the times when it wasn't also damned convenient.

But it went both ways. Growing up together had its perks after all.

"It's in the drawer of the hallway table."

The feet stopped halfway to his desk before Grimmjow laughed. "What makes ya think I need money?"

"Don't you?"

"Yeah, but it sure as hell wasn't gonna be the first thing outta my mouth."

Ichigo slanted him a look over his shoulder.

"Oh, sorry. First, you were going to ask how Court went— as if you give a damn. Then you'd ask if I'd eaten yet, ask me if I got laid last night or something equally annoying. _Then_ you'd get around to money." He turned back to the window. "Look how much trouble I saved you."

"Well, you're sure's hell in a pissy mood. What happened? Mommy Kurosaki send another letter?"

Ichigo clicked his tongue.

_His mother_. He wasn't even starting with that.

To think that he'd once looked forward to her communications. Now every time he opened them it was question after question about his health and the state of his hair. Was he getting enough to eat in the city? What was he doing, who was he meeting? Was he going to settle down soon? And why couldn't he just come back home and marry the nice girl she'd met in the market today…?

Ichigo almost groaned. He'd forgotten he still had to respond to that.

Grimmjow snorted and threw himself into one of the wingback chairs across from the desk. "What then? Ya dream about that girl?"

"Fuck you."

"Hn, whaddya know. I guessed it."

Ichigo didn't bother to respond, it'd just encourage the bastard.

He turned, dropped back into his desk chair and snatched up his pen, scrawling his name across a sheet before moving on to the next. "I'm not talking about it."

"Like it matters. Shit's all over your face. Ya need to get out more. Forget about the girl that lives in yer head, an' stop clinging to mommy's skirts."

Ichigo's hand tightened on his pen, but he kept his tongue locked between his teeth.

"Ya know… I could find a bitch ta fuck ya in a heartbeat. Bet I wouldn't even have to pay her. They go for that broody shit ya got goin' on. So long as ya leave that girly jewelry of yours behind—"

"_It is not−_" Ichigo grit his teeth. "Girly jewelry. It's a fucking family heirloom. And you know that, you son of a bitch."

Grimmjow grinned, planting a foot on the side of Ichigo's desk as leverage to rock his chair back. "Whatever. I'm just glad your dad was born before mine, otherwise I'd be the one stuck wearin' it and signin' all those papers." He snorted again. "A fuckin' flower. Kind'a men were our ancestors? Can't blame ya for hidin' it under yer shirt."

Ichigo's grip tightened as his pen jumped on the paper, glaring at the foot mounted in front of him before finishing his scrawl. He wanted to punch that smile off that smug face, but just as he considered throwing his pen back down, there was a knock on the door and he looked up to see Tsukishima.

He entered without waiting for an invitation, pretty much just like everyone else Ichigo knew.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything important."

Tsukishima gave a ghost of a smile but it held no real geniality. One brown eye hid behind a curtain of waved black hair that fell just short of his shoulders and his hands lodged into his pockets. Like most of the men in their family, he was tall, but Tsukishima had always lacked the lean-muscled build the rest of them had.

"I have someone around here that's supposed to watch the door. What do you people do, just walk in?" Ichigo went back to his work, signing off on another paper. "It's in the drawer of the hallway table."

Tsukishima didn't bother mincing words. They'd never been close anyway and neither saw the need to fake it. He turned on his heel and walked back out the door without so much as a farewell.

Ichigo was used to it.

While he was in Seireitei, this was a necessary evil. Who knew what his cousins would be up to if left to their own devices. But once Court adjourned for the season, Ichigo would be headed back to Karakura, _thank god_, and his grating family responsibilities would once again go back to being his old man's problem.

Grimmjow curled his lip. "Might be related, but that guy gives me the fuckin' creeps."

Actually, there was debate about how true the bloodlines were on that side of the family. Ichigo didn't bother to add that kind of fuel to Grimmjow's fire as he pitched another paper into the finished stack.

"You know he's probably taking your money too, don't you?"

There was a pause. "Motherf—"

Grimmjow spat a string of curses, up and out of the chair, sailing through the door and leaving only the sound of his dashing footfalls. There was a crash in the front hall— probably his table. Then bare seconds later, Ichigo heard the main entrance slamming closed as Grimmjow took off after his money.

Ichigo snorted, signed another sheet, and tossed it into the pile.

-o-

She was selfish?

Orihime frowned, rolling her stepmother's words around her mind before deciding she didn't like them.

Her arms circled the post she was gripping tighter as the dressing room attendant gave a violent yank on the strings of the corset. It sucked in at the middle and Orihime whooshed out air with a strangled gasp, wondering if that was a thread popping or a rib she'd just heard crack.

If they squished her any tighter, she'd pass out…

"Ah! Please… I can't breathe!"

Ainoko pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed. "Orihime, I've told you. These are the trials a young woman stepping into society must endure. Now stop fighting the woman and bear it."

Orihime chewed her lip, trying to stop herself from crying out and further exasperating her stepmother. If this was the price for being placed on the marriage market, she highly doubted her chances of success.

She turned her head to the side and regarded her reflection in the dressing room mirror. She didn't even look like the same person. Her hips had been mashed into a straight line with her waist, her chest squashed flat—

The attendant tightened it further and Orihime tried to gasp only to find that she couldn't.

"There!" The woman stepped back.

Her stepmother nodded her approval.

The blood drained from Orihime's face as she sank into a chair, lightheaded. "I… I can't move. I like the other one better. The one that let me breathe."

"The other corset didn't offer sufficient support. This is the one you need."

"But my… breasts are… are flat as pancakes." Orihime panted, tugging at the vice-like contraption while her stomach grumbled at the mention of food.

"Orihime, _language_. A lady does not use such words."

She picked at another string, nearly breaking a nail before looking up. "Pancakes?"

Holding up a hand, her stepmother closed her eyes. "I do not find that amusing. I can see you're going to force me to be indelicate. Fine. The first garment did not offer enough support for a young lady of your considerable, upper proportions. It would allow your bosom to…" She took a deep breath, pronouncing the word as if it were a foreign object she didn't recognize. "_Jiggle_."

Ainoko adjusted her skirts and sniffed.

"Furthermore, I'll not let Lady Shihōin see you in such a state. Now, hurry up and dress. We need to make certain your new gown suits. She'll be at the house for your first meeting within the hour and if you are acceptable to her, she shall be instructing you in all the things you'll need to learn before you are introduced into society."

Orihime allowed the attendant to help her dress, since she couldn't manage on her own, and followed her stepmother out, pulling up the hooded cloak that concealed her bright, copper-colored hair before she could be chastised for leaving it exposed.

She hated that she had to cover it. What should it matter if someone mistook her heritage? The so-called "death gods" were keepers of the law, a highly distinguished position, and everyone knew there were no more full-blooded vampires. They had all been annihilated before the king took his thrown and the Court of Pure Souls was rebuilt. The only thing left were the myths passed around the small bonfires that were used to keep the destitute warm at night.

Well, that and the visored.

_Speaking of which…_

Orihime peered out the window of their carriage, hoping to catch sight of Shinji or Hachi and the others as they drove by the market district, but she frowned when didn't see them, heart sinking.

Just as well, it wasn't as if she'd be allowed to wave or stop to speak with them. If Ainoko knew she'd been seeing them again, her stepmother would lock her in her room until her next birthday. Like the rest of the city, she believed they should be shunned for their questionable heritage. Whether or not that treatment had been earned seemed to be of little consequence−

"Orihime! Pull your head in this instant," Ainoko hissed. "The wind is ruffling your cloak open. Someone will see."

Orihime pulled her head back inside, flushing with guilt at her stepmother's tone. She sighed and drew her hood farther over her hair.

"I think you are purposefully trying to exacerbate my illness. Look at me. Look at my hands shake. Do I have to remind you, again, what would happen if you don't obey the rules governing someone of your abnormal coloring? You'd be ostracized by polite society and me along with you. Is that what you want?"

Orihime shook her head, but said nothing, which was always the safest answer when dealing with Ainoko. It seemed everything she did upset her. At least if she had lessons with Lady Shihōin, she'd get to be outside the house for a few precious hours. That would be something.

But as they arrived home and she saw her new instructor, her hopes fell.

Lady Shihōin glided through the entrance into their drawing room like a ship, tall and majestic, but rigidly encased, chest to thigh, in the same unforgiving contraption as Orihime. Her hair was an acceptable black and swept up high on top of her head in a severe twist that looked every bit as painful as the corset.

Orihime blinked up, trying not to stare as she wondered what shade it had been that the woman had to cover it. But in the face of not one but _two_ imposing authority figures, Orihime didn't have the courage to ask.

Her stepmother nodded, a smile gracing her lips. She approved of the woman on sight.

"Lady Shihōin, this is Lady Orihime Inoue, my stepdaughter. She is in need of your services. Her first social year has begun and I find she needs a sterner hand than I'm able to give. But I warn you, her etiquette is deplorable."

Orihime's breath caught when the woman's sharp, golden eyes met hers and she nearly took a step back. They were beautiful, but frightening, and it seemed they missed nothing as they surveyed Orihime from her still cloak-covered head to her delicate calf-skin slippers and up again.

"Well," Ainoko said. "I'll leave you to get acquainted. I am certain that my stepdaughter will be safe in your most capable hands, Lady Shihōin."

Orihime's last glimpse of freedom disappeared as her stepmother shut the drawing room doors. Fists clenching into her skirts, she turned back to her future tutor, as the woman circled her, surveying Orihime like an interesting morsel of food. The way the woman held herself, Orihime wondered if she should attempt to scurry away and hide in a mouse hole. Lady Shihōin smiled and Orihime shivered.

"So this is the heiress of the Inoue fortune. It's a pleasure to meet you. Your stepmother says your manners are deplorable. What do you think of her assessment?"

"I… I think I'd have an easier time learning the rules if they made sense."

Lady Shihōin paused. "Go on."

Encouraged by the lack of reprimand, Orihime licked her lips and forged ahead. "I cover my hair when everyone already knows what color it is. I'm forbidden to have intelligent conversations, then tied into a garment that smashes me flat as a board and keeps me from getting a good breath."

Orihime waited for an explosive reaction, and hesitated when she received nothing but a raised eyebrow.

Yoruichi regarded her. And… was that amusement?

"You have a restless soul," she said in the same tone of voice the visoreds used when reading fortunes to foreign tourists on the street. Then she smiled again, and Orihime swore she saw a sharp tooth peeking from inside her mouth, but the thought fluttered away the next second. "I think, Lady Inoue, you and I will get along. I accept you under my tutelage."

Orihime blinked then felt a smile forming as hope resurfaced.

"You will come to my studio Tuesdays and Thursdays at noon, and we will begin your lessons. Maybe I'll be able to make something of you yet."

-o-

The bell sounded at the front door, and Ainoko nearly spilled her tea in her excitement. She met her husband's eye over the roast lamb and other delicacies adorning the polished surface of the dining table. A covert smile brushed her lips before it was pushed away again.

She thought to give her husband parting instruction, but decided against it. For Sorame's many faults, as a man of law, this type of negotiation was the one place he had experience and the home field advantage.

Setting her cup and saucer down, she rose, making her way from the room, efficient with her movements, but maintaining grace. Dignity was one of the few things a woman of any social standing could afford, and she would not be rushed even for something as this.

No sooner had she stepped behind the elaborate screen that divided the dining area from the patio, than the guest was announced. Ainoko watched from her place, knowing the texture of the screen would hide her presence.

Sorame stood from his chair, offering his hand as a blue-haired male stepped into sight.

Her eyes widened from her concealed corner.

He was certainly a handsome one. Well-built and muscled in ways current male fashion trends had strayed from in the last decade.

Ainoko let her gaze travel up his long legs and the form-fitting pants, over a lean but substantial torso and then up to his face.

She scrutinized his frowning and bored demeanor, but narrowed on his hair. Even as comely as he was, if it weren't for the Kurosaki name associated with his, that outrageous yet striking coloring would never be acceptable. However, when wealth or influence was involved, one managed to find a certain degree of leeway within the customary rules of etiquette.

Sorame had done well.

Taking her chance, Ainoko stole through the patio doors while Sorame engaged this Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Soon he would strike up a bargain with the man and present her with the results. And if all proceeded smoothly, they would begin the steps to make Orihime's fortune theirs.

A/N

Well, okay. It's been a while since I put anything out, and so I was pretty nervous about this. I don't know if it makes sense andI feel the need to warn you, this story has a lot,_**lot**_of elements, so if you're feeling any confusion at this point, that's to be expected. But hey, feel free to tell me about it, maybe you'll save me an unfortunate plot hole :)

Oh, and this story will be long. Very long. Somewhere around thirty-five to forty chapters depending on how long I make them. I'd like to update about once a week, but we'll see. Anyway, I'm going to be writing on this as fast as I can, so there might be some rough places. If something doesn't make sense, please tell me. None of this is beta'ed, so yeah C: Enjoy.

~Ash


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Starcross'd

Warnings: Violence, gore, heavy sexual content.

Rating: M

**.**

**Chapter Two **

**.**

The afternoon after her first lesson with Lady Shihōin, Orihime was summoned by Ainoko to the sitting room.

A heap of acceptable dresses littered the furniture, hanging from doorways and racks, and she'd been set the daunting task of picking one for her tea with Rangiku Matsumoto — the only lady to Orihime's knowledge so infamous her name alone was her title.

Orihime wandered through them, looking from outfit to outfit with the same strange twinge of unease. Like she was staring at her future. Looking down an endless corridor filled with meaningless social gestures and even more meaningless rules and regulations. An entire lifetime where she was to do nothing but sit and look pretty. Never having a stray thought outside of what was expected of a woman.

She took a deep breath and let it out, deflating.

The embellishments, trailing skirts, and the layers of unnecessary fabric weren't what bothered her. She generally liked fanciful creations. They were just so unbearable to wear, impractical even. Pinching her in the middle and restricting her movements. Especially with her new corset. And the colors were drab at best.

Orihime stepped around an array of browns and greens and grays.

One appeared to be the exact shade as the apple-butter she'd had on her toast that morning.

The rest of her life was to be a place free of color.

There was one dress she liked, a deep navy with intricate trim lacing over the bodice, but as Orihime looked at it, Ainoko frowned.

"That tone is entirely inappropriate for your fair coloring, child. You stand out enough as it is."

Orihime pined in its wake as the maid carried it off before another stepped forward with a gown in a color Orihime had only ever seen on a vegetable platter.

She deflated further and reached up to scratch at her hairline.

"Orihime, stop that. You'll set it askew."

Dropping her hand, she turned to blink at Ainoko, startled.

Were people not supposed to notice the sudden mound of black curls perched atop her head? Because if there was a way to make it look more out of place, Orihime would be astonished. At that point, she was certain she could set it on her head _backward_ without further embarrassment. Possibly on fire.

"Everyone will already know it's a wig."

Her stepmother gave a sigh indicating her long suffering nature. "Yes, Orihime, that is the point. As a lady, it is your duty to set an example of what is considered acceptable behavior to your inferiors, and often, your peers. If it is clear you are wearing a wig to cover the unseemliness of your birth color, then they will see the pains you take to avoid impropriety. It can only reflect well on us."

Orihime stopped the frown that threatened by biting her lip just as Ainoko looked back, gesturing her to hurry and dress.

Her heart sank, but disagreeing was pointless. She'd learned that long ago, so she let the maid slip the gown over her head.

It clashed to an alarming degree with her new… hair.

If she were a person to think poorly of others, she might, _perhaps_, think her stepmother was dressing her down on purpose. Orihime had never once seen Ainoko's wardrobe with mismatched shades.

Ainoko was still watching her.

"Your lesson with Lady Shihōin, you haven't mentioned it yet."

Orihime shoved her arms through poufed sleeves, almost certain her new addition spoke for itself as she struggled to right it on her head. When Ainoko saw it after Orihime arrived home, the woman couldn't have looked more pleased.

Needless to say, Orihime's hope that she'd found an ally in Lady Shihōin had been dashed. The first thing the older woman did when Orihime reached her studio and removed the cloak's hood, was to disappear into the back and reappear with a jar of kohl powder. After she applied it to Orihime's hair with a large wet-tipped brush, Orihime had been stunned by the change, and excited at the thought of being able to leave her head uncovered.

It had, however, taken only seconds after Yoruichi suggested Orihime try it for herself before the jar's contents were coating the floor. Four servant girls couldn't remove it from the rug. Orihime ended up with a wig and instruction to practice the kohl on her own time.

She reached down the dress's front and adjusted her cherished hairpins so they lay over her heart and out of sight. Orihime had relocated them under her neckline for safekeeping. There was always the chance she'd have to leave them if they were spotted. Ainoko did not approve of unnecessary jewelry.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Orihime gave another sigh. "I didn't think there was anything worth mentioning."

Ainoko's lips pinched. "Well, what does that mean? Come now, don't be secretive. What did you learn?"

"But… But that's just it. I don't feel as if I've learned anything. It seems to me these lessons are a terrible waste of time, and…"

Her words trailed away at the hurt look on her stepmother's face.

"I would have given anything at your age to have an instructress. But alas, my poor health and financial situation didn't offer me that prospect. However, instead of gratitude, Orihime, you give difficulties." Ainoko sank to a couch and stroked her arthritic hip. "It pains me deeply when you rebel. I am only looking after your best interests."

Eyes closing, her stepmother took deep breaths, leaning against the backrest for support.

Orihime sucked in a breath, brow furrowing.

How had she forgotten Ainoko's condition? And she was right, wasn't she? Orihime led a fortunate life, and Sorame and Ainoko had been so generous to take her in after her brother passed on. Why did she have be this way? So ungrateful, when they'd never shown her anything but kindness?

"I… I'm sorry, Oka-san. I didn't realize how selfish it was of me to complain."

Her stepmother smiled. Whether it was from the admission or the endearment, Orihime didn't know, but she made a note to call her more respectfully in the future.

"Ah, it is something you will learn with time, to suffer in silence as I do. I would like you to keep your appointments with your mistress, and it would benefit the both of us if you could show more appreciation for the privileges your title and wealth afford you."

Orihime glanced at Ainoko's hip as the maid finished buttoning the back of her gown. It seemed to be paining her more than usual today and Orihime felt a stab of guilt. "Will you still be able to attend Rangiku's tea?"

"No, no, I'm afraid I've been overtaxed. I shall be forced to lie down."

"Should I send our apologies?"

Ainoko's eyes flew open. "You will not. Lady Matsumoto is an important personage in this city. She has ties to the government and the courts, and has deigned to take an interest in you. We will not insult her by refusing her invitation. You may go on without me. Arisawa will accompany you."

Orihime couldn't hide her surprise. Her stepmother didn't care for Tatsuki, and she would have been fired long ago if Orihime hadn't intervened. If Ainoko was suggesting Tatsuki take her, she must truly want Orihime to attend.

Not for the first time, Orihime wondered if her stepmother was uncomfortable because she held no title or fortune of her own. Even with a title, Orihime herself had only ever been considered significant in social circles because of her brother's high standing with the king. Rangiku, by contrast, was the embodiment of fashion and wealthy influence. And although she was at the very summit of the societal world, Orihime didn't find her the least bit unapproachable. The opposite, in fact. She was an engaging eccentric who'd known her brother, and for Orihime, a dear friend.

Every year, Rangiku headlined the first ball of the season. It was a revealing of sorts for the newest young women on the marriage market. The debut for the eligible seventeen year old girls. But it was exclusive. Only the top tier of the elite crust was ever invited. Needless to say, Ainoko had been overjoyed when Orihime received her invitation.

Standing, her stepmother headed for the door, but paused on the threshold. "Orihime, I know I don't need to tell you again to stay away from the market district, do I?"

"Of course not, Oka-san," Orihime said, face carefully blank as a maid buttoned a half-glove at her wrist.

Ainoko nodded, turned, and left as Orihime watched.

She held no sign of a limp.

-o-

Tatsuki looked over her shoulder, checking the street sign they'd just passed before frowning at her auburn-headed mistress.

"Orihime, I think we're going the wrong way." She checked the sign again. "Doesn't this street lead to the market?"

"That's right, Tatsuki."

Orihime's step bounced in her excitement, nearly treading into the path of a steam-powered vehicle. Tatsuki pulled her back onto the curb at the last second.

She gave her companion a bright smile. "Ah, th-thank you."

"That idiot wasn't even looking. I can't believe they let those filthy things into the capital. And weren't we given explicit instruction to _avoid_ the market place?"

"R-Really? I think they're fascinating." Orihime's cheeks colored under her scrutiny, but she didn't slow or falter in her advance. "And… I don't recall."

"I see." So they were going to see _them_.

Tatsuki sighed as she watched the rarity that was Orihime's smile these days. When Sora was alive, Tatsuki had wondered if the girl _had_ any other expressions. But after his death, Orihime had gained her stepmother as an almost constant companion, and it didn't surface as often as it once had.

They strolled by a group of gentlemen only to have a flurry appreciative comments follow in hushed whispers.

Tatsuki shook her head, flashing a scowl to discourage further ogling.

Orihime was oblivious. That was troubling.

There were very good reasons young ladies weren't allowed out alone. It was considered good form to keep the wealthy female population ignorant of human depravity. Tatsuki didn't mind Orihime being kept innocent, anything else would seem almost blasphemous. But it also meant Orihime would often stumble into situations that left her at another's mercy for good or ill.

Orihime turned to look back at her. None the wiser about anything that had just occurred. "It wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

"It's not that it'd be bad, but that place holds a lot of people. A lot of… _different_ people. I'd be sacked if something happened to you." That wasn't the true reason she didn't want Orihime to be there, but it was the most likely to give the girl pause.

Orihime did pause, eyes wide. "I didn't think about that… Maybe you should wait here."

Tatsuki gave her a flat look. "I don't think that would lessen the chances of something happening to you, and I was told to accompany you. That's twice as serious."

Orihime had stopped between buildings, and Tatsuki could see the wheels turning in her mind. And since those wheels usually carried a plan that ended in more trouble than the original problem, she was quick to head it off.

"Maybe you could just strike someone if they give you trouble. And yell—_scream_," she corrected, nodding. "That's the best option for a lady. Even if it's just for a reward, someone will help you."

Gray eyes widened further. "But I don't know how to strike somebody."

"Well… It's not that hard." She threw up her hands, at a loss. "You just… hit them. And if it's a man, you hit him in his jewels."

Orihime kept staring. "Men carry jewels? What for? Do you think father does? I've never seen them. Where do they keep them?"

Tatsuki stared back then closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Orihime was still watching her, waiting for clarification. Or perhaps a good story.

She twisted to look down the alley beside them and found it empty. "Look. Come here."

When they were sufficiently hidden from sight, Tatsuki considered her options.

"You know I come from the mainland?" At Orihime's nod, she continued. "Well, my father and brothers were in the Martial Forces. I was little when they died, but there are certain _moves_— ways a person can strike another person that don't require strength or bulk. If you learn a few, it might take someone by surprise, even if they're larger than you."

Orihime hung on her words like a kitten dangling from a tree, and Tatsuki had misgivings for the first time. Never the less, she took her through a few basic stances and strikes that hopefully never had to prove useful. After several demonstrations, they exited the alley with Orihime accosting imaginary foes.

Poorly.

Tatsuki held up a finger, waiting for her lady's full attention. "I showed you this, but there's one important thing. This is the only thing you need to remember. Once you hit them, run. Even if you miss or don't do it right. Run." She took Orihime's shoulders. Normally, it was considered a great offense to touch your betters in such a familiar way, but she'd been serving the Inoue's since she was a child, and she knew Orihime thought of her as a friend. "Promise."

Orihime gave a soft smile. "I promise, Tatsuki-chan."

Tatsuki returned the smile, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation when Orihime went back to fighting the air. What she needed was practice, otherwise the only the thing that would scare off an attacker would be the concern that her addled condition might be contagious.

Tatsuki shook her head, taking the lead as Orihime mulled over her new education.

A few streets later they arrived at their destination.

Food sellers called over the crowd. There were so many people that even walking down the main avenue, they were bumped and jostled. Men and women alike stared at Orihime as she made her way past. Once they realized a lady was in their midst, the crowd part around her without the need for Tatsuki to elbow and shove and yell to keep them back.

Orihime didn't seem to notice any of the commotion she was making. Too busy taking in the sights and sounds, pausing to delight over glass bobbles and nicknacks, and leaving disappointed stall keeper's when she didn't linger or purchase.

The market was vast, covering several city blocks. It started in a centralized courtyard and burrowed between buildings, spider-webbing outward. The crowds engulfed the Courts of Common Law. Lower ranking street officers clothed in black and white shouted to keep business form spilling onto the steps. They had their hands full. One was even waving his service weapon, a standard issue katana. Other buildings, mainly the licensing offices and other public municipals, were there too. It was the center of common life, and almost always overflowing with people.

As they walked, a hundred carved gargoyles peered down from atop the grey-stoned buildings and over arches, watching the traffic below. Tatsuki studied Orihime, but couldn't find a trace of the fear she'd displayed for them as a child.

She was growing up.

Tatsuki smiled at her back, right as Orihime picked up her skirts and ran. "Hirako-san!"

Tatsuki gaped as she was swallowed by the crowd. "Orihime, don't run!"

The nearest passers-by jumped at the sudden call, but Orihime didn't pay further attention, rushing to where she saw a blond head turning around. He looked startled himself for a moment before realizing who was calling.

He raised an arm. "Orihime-chan!"

Tatsuki bristled as they came to a stop, pushing past her lady.

"That's Lady Inoue, you—"

He ignored her. "What're ya doin' down this way? Thought that old hag—" He scratched his head under his cap as he bit off the words, changing topics with a wide grin. "I almost didn' recognize ya. What's with this..."

He poked at her head then grimaced, mouth twisted all the way in the opposite direction.

Orihime flushed under her skewed wig and Tatsuki straightened it from behind.

"Anyone'd make ya cover that hair deserves a kick in tha' pants, ya ask me." Shinji shook his own blonde head, turned, and waved them after him. "But don' just stand there. Come see. We got a new one."

To Tatsuki's annoyance, Orihime followed after him like a puppy, a smile stretching across her face almost as wide as his. "Ah! Where are we going?"

"Jus' come see."

A few minutes later, they were on the far side of the market, Orihime peeking around his taller form.

They stood in an alley, one where buildings pressed close together. Wooden awnings overhead offered some shelter from the elements, and what wasn't protected by the awnings was covered by sheets of colorful tarps tacked and pinned to make lean-to tents that took up entire corners of the back passages between buildings.

It reminded Tatsuki of the sheet forts her and her brothers built as children. For a hovel, it was almost decadent. Some had even been filled with simple possessions and were like small bedrooms.

Orihime called to a few people—a small girl with green hair that waved back, and a larger man with pink hair− then beamed up at Shinji. "You moved."

"Not just that, we picked up a stray."

Tatsuki wasn't as fluent with the Visored as Orihime, but when Shinji pointed to a slender, dark-haired man toward the back, she thought he looked out of place.

Orihime raised a hand with a smile, and the man sat up straighter, blue eyes widening for just a moment before returning to their previous position.

Tatsuki blinked. It wasn't unusual for people to have surprised expressions when dealing with Orihime for the first time, but she was almost positive his gaze had traveled down her lady's form, before he corrected it and snapped back to her face. The little bastard. And maybe she was imagining it, but she thought his cheeks colored when Orihime stretched on her tiptoes to wave again as Shinji called him over.

"He's quiet, so don't be surprised if he don' say too much."

Orihime dropped her hand, catching on that she might be embarrassing him.

"Oi! New kid! This's Inoue-sama, our patron of sorts. Say hullo."

The dark-haired man's eyebrows rumpled behind the frames of his spectacles, but he offered his hand and brought Orihime's fingers to his mouth. The women both stood still as Shinji smirked. Tatsuki had seen pureblooded nobles that didn't display as much refinement.

The visored slapped the new addition on the back, knocking him forward a step. "Ain't he somethin'?"

The man's eyebrows rumpled with a bit more enthusiasm before his gaze narrowed. "Ishida Uryu. Or did you forget it again?"

Orihime stared down at her fingers clasped in his before the man realized he still held them and hurried to release. Another blush dusted his cheeks. Tatsuki wondered if it was the first time he'd come into contact with a Lady.

Tatsuki considered him. "Ishida, was it?"

Those blue eyes turned Tatsuki's direction, seeming to notice her for the first time. "Yes? Er…"

She gave him a smile that held teeth. "Arisawa Tatsuki. Perhaps you could help my lady with something."

Orihime gave her a curious look.

Uryu blinked, eyes flicking toward Shinji. "I suppose…"

"You see, she tends to find herself in very unforgiving situations, and we were just discussing the fact that her skills at self-defense would be greatly improved if she had someone to practice on. What do you think?"

With another blink, he pushed his glasses up before turning toward Orihime then back to Tatsuki. "I… I think that would be a wise choice... It's foolish to go into combat unprepared, but for a lady, it seems foolish to engage in combat at all."

"Yes, but trouble often finds _her_."

He studied Tatsuki as if he couldn't figure out what she was after, watching her close before shrugging one shoulder. "Well, yes. In that situation, practice would be the best course."

Tatsuki gave her toothy smile again. _This guy… _What a pompous ass.

"So you'll help us?"

"Uh…" Uryu looked between both Tatsuki and Orihime, and finally cast another concerned glance toward Shinji.

Shinji, standing to one side, picked at his ear and didn't seem to be paying attention.

"I… suppose."

"Excellent. Do you mind if we begin immediately? Lady Inoue has somewhere she needs to be."

Shinji's newest recruit took a step back, and Tatsuki grinned.

-o-

A week later, Tuesday morning, Orihime walked beside Tatsuki again to her appointment with Lady Shihōin. "But the lessons are so long... There's no reason we should both have a miserable time, is there? You don't need to wait for me. Why don't you go see Ishida-kun? The two of you seemed to get along so well."

Tatsuki stopped walking, mouth dropping open. "Were you even there? It doesn't seem to be _me_ he's interested in."

Orihime blinked. "Shinji?"

Tatsuki just shook her head, offering a dismissing wave over her shoulder. "No, it's not Shinji either. Alright. I'll pick you up in a few hours. Try not to drop any more expensive powders."

Watching her maid and friend go, Orihime wondered if she'd missed something, but decided not to fret over it as she turned toward the studio entrance to Lady Shihōin's home. She was admitted before knocking, and was let into a different room than they'd used for her first appointment.

Stepping inside, Orihime gasped as the servant closed the doors behind her.

Mirrors lined the walls, floor to ceiling. And no matter where she stood in the room, she could see herself. It was better than anything she'd imagined. An entire room where a woman could watch herself dance or play the piano.

Light streamed in through the windows so that a thousand tiny rainbows were reflected from mirrored walls. It made the room warm and welcoming. Orihime felt bathed in magic.

It reminded her of the times her brother taught her dance steps when she was growing up.

That first time, when she was young and he'd been leaving to attend some grand ball. She'd sat on the steps crying because she was too little to go along. He'd crouched beside her, but after several failed attempts to cheer her up, asked if she would be his first dance. She could hardly stop jumping up and down long enough to learn the steps and had to stand on his feet. It became a sort of tradition for them. Whenever he left for a ball, she would meet him at the steps and steal his first dance.

She'd been so happy then. With her brother.

Orihime circled the room.

Distracted by her itching head, she took off her wig and shook out her long auburn hair. The light caught through wavy strands and she smiled, tossing the fake, black tresses into a chair. Taking her hairpins from the chain about her neck, she slipped them into place on either side of her head.

There.

There she was.

Orihime scrutinized her reflection. Gray eyes set in pale skin, her mouth and chin, a small throat and the breasts that had always gotten her far more attention than she was comfortable with. Her waist was flat, but strangely disproportioned under her corset.

There were times when she had so many roles and pretenses thrust upon her, she almost forgot what she looked like underneath it all.

She took a step back.

It'd been a long time, but Orihime thought she still remembered all the steps.

Kicking off her shoes, she set them under her wig. The Orihime raised her hands, one to clasp an imaginary hand and the other an imaginary shoulder. Step by step, twirling through the light, she danced with a memory.

Orihime closed her eyes and tried to remember. How it felt to glide along on his feet. The smell of his cologne and the faint scent of tobacco. His laughter.

She reached the end of the dance and moved into another. When that one finished, she dropped her hands altogether and just spun, moving quicker. The floor felt as if it were tilting under her feet, and she ignored the stinging heat in her eyes. Her skirts cleared out to show her legs, her hair cascaded and tumbled about her shoulders in wild disarray, but she couldn't remember why she should care.

In her mind, the faint echo of their waltz played. His favorite. Her favorite. It'd all been the same then.

She swirled about, matching her movements to the tempo which went faster and faster. She could almost feel it in her blood. The rhythm. The upbeat. The lower tones. She twirled until her heartbeat was in her throat and in soles of her feet, until she ached with it.

The music hit a crescendo, so loud it ricocheted through the room. Then it was gone.

Orihime was so shocked, she stumbled and fell. Her hair swept the floor, tangling and pulling under her hands and knees. When she looked up, she panted, gaping up into the face of lady Shihōin where she sat at the piano.

The lady watched her for a full minute, golden eyes unreadable. "You… are free spirit. One that has been caged up too long. Your body has a fluidity I haven't seen in years. Where did you learn to dance like that?"

Orihime flushed, embarrassed to have been caught and wondering if she just gotten herself in trouble. Again. She thought about lying, but those eyes were still on her. "I… learned from the visored. They perform for money on the… s-streets."

"I see." Her expression was still inscrutable, but she sighed and stood. "Yes, I know of them. They are nomads, but they're good at their trade. The life they're forced to live— the prejudice— they don't deserve that, I believe."

There was something under the words, as if she weighed some great decision, but Orihime couldn't begin to guess what it was.

Watching Lady Shihōin's thoughtful posture, she chanced a smile, lowering her voice. "It's hard to dance in this, but before, I could keep up with Shinji."

Lady Shihōin looked amused. Most people familiar with the visored knew Shinji was the unofficial leader of the group, and probably the best of them. "You've learned that much, have you? I can't imagine the countless hours you would've had to spend."

"Are you going to tell my stepmother?"

"I don't see any reason why I should."

Orihime took a quick breath. That wasn't what she'd expected. Another slow smile began to form on her lips.

Lady Shihōin returned it. "I have an idea. Why don't we both take off our corsets? There's a dressing room off to the side you can use. Down the hall."

Orihime didn't hesitate to do she was told. Afraid that the offer would be retracted, she hurried down the hall, but when she saw the room, she paused in the door.

There were costumes of every color and fabric hanging on racks along walls, some sequined, some feathered. She'd never seen anything like it. Orihime reached out a hand caressed one of the creations, thinking they were dance attire or costumes for some theater.

Shaking herself, Orihime removed her corset and slipped back into her gown. She'd always loved playing dress up when she was little. Changing outfits as if they were lifetimes and switching from one into the next, becoming something new each time.

But Ainoko had thrown them all out of course, stating she was far too old for such things.

She'd love to have them back.

Returning to the room, Orihime stood in amazement. Lady Shihōin no longer resembled a proper matron.

She'd cleaned the kohl from her hair to reveal a long purple mane. It flowed about her form sensuously, adding a flair of mystery, drawing out the gold of her eyes. And without the corset, Orihime realized the woman's curves rivaled her own. In fact, she no longer looked like an older woman. But Orihime decided she wasn't young either.

She looked ageless.

Remembering the costumes in the changing closet, Orihime licked her lips. "Lady Shihōin—"

"Oh, please." She smirked over at Orihime, her voice no longer stilted with rigid aristocratic speech. It was low and caressing, teasing. "Call me Yoruichi."

Orihime flushed at the provocative, throaty quality, warmth filling her belly as she tried not to squirm.

Yoruichi's eyes sparkled.

It occurred to Orihime that the guise of stiff dowager was just that. A disguise.

"It's what my friends call me"

Orihime paused. Is that what they were?

Taking a chance, she said, "The costumes in the back room... They're beautiful. Do you think I might... try one on?"

Yoruichi laughed. "You can try them all on if you like."

"R-Really?"

"Of course, I'll help you."

A few minutes later, Orihime was garbed as a druid priestess, complete with golden arm bangles that jingled when she moved.

Yoruichi skillfully painted snakes crossing and tangling around her writs. It saddened Orihime to think that they'd have to be washed off before she left, but she was so excited to have them in the first place, she could hardly bother to care.

Her smile grew when Yoruichi tied up her hair in a braid while she fingered a marauder costume that came with a small stuffed tropical bird and eye patch.

"They're all so amazing. Do you think I could make my own?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Orihime thought.

If she could be anything, what would she be? She almost couldn't decide.

Yoruichi smiled. "You would make a lovely fae sprite. With Gossamere wings at your back. We could stretch thin silk between wires. Hmm..." She turned and pulled out a strands of long golden ribbons. "You can keep the bangles, they suit you. And we will tie the wings on with this."

Orihime clasped her hands and brought them to her mouth. "And a bright colored dress?"

"Short. To show off your legs."

She blushed, but didn't deny the appealing sound of that.

Yoruichi went on. "And of course your own hair, down and curled."

"My… My own hair?"

No one had ever suggested that she show off her hair. It seemed forbidden. But there was no doubt that she longed for it.

She gave a timid smile "I would like that."

Yoruichi looked at her, seeming to consider something serious for a moment. "There is a costume ball being given by Urahara Kisuke. He's… a patron of the arts, and a close, personal friend of mine. It's next week at midnight. How would you like to attend?"

"Like a party?" Orihime felt a trill of excitement before the truth dawned on her. "My stepmother would never let me attend something like that."

Yoruichi gave a cat's smile, one sharp tooth peeking behind her lips. "Let me worry about your stepmother. We will make your costume. You focus all your energy on your lessons. We will double our pace, learn all the acceptable dances." She flashed another one of those smiles that made Orihime's face heat. "Perhaps a few unacceptable as well. And you leave your stepmother me. There's an entire world that awakens within the city at night. Your soul will thank you once you un-cage it."

"Another world…?"

_What did that mean?_

"You'll see."

-o-

The following day, Orihime spent preparing for her debut into society. She was bathed and scrubbed, her nails filed and polished. She was plucked, smoothed, lotioned, and finally, shunted into a dress that ate up her middle.

She wished more than anything that she could go to Yoruichi's to put the final touches to her costume, but she dared not even mention it to her stepmother for fear she would give herself away.

Ainoko had made her opinion quite clear that lesson time was not meant to be fun, and that all of her free time from then on would be spent preparing for womanhood.

Starting that night, Orihime would be presenting herself to the eligible bachelors of the city. Her stepmother would be expecting her to fetch a prize husband. Although, Orihime didn't have her hopes high. She doubted it would matter who she chose or had chosen for her— which was the far more likely outcome.

She'd be going from one captivity into the next.

Orihime's eyes squeezed shut for a moment before opening to take in her reflection.

The dress shone a rich chocolate brown, her nails were glossy, her skin glowing. A new wig dripped shiny black curls from a twisted coif. Hair which she would've thought beautiful on anyone else, had it been real.

"Orihime," came her stepmother's voice. "Orihime! What's taking you so long? We'll be late. "

She took a deep breath. "I'm... I'm coming!"

There was a long shawl draped over a high-backed chair Ainoko had picked for the dress. She snatched it up as she ran by and out the door, taking the steps two at a time. When she reached the bottom, Ainoko was standing by the door, puffed up like a frazzled hen.

Biting her lip, Orihime hurried forward with an apology, and soon they were climbing into the stately black vehicle and clattering down the driveway.

She always thought she would be excited about her debut into society, but riding in the carriage all she felt was dread.

Her stepmother spent the trip to Rangiku's cataloging the rigid rules and regulations of a young unmarried woman's evenings out. When she was to smile, when to speak or remain silent, and above all, "You must take care not to attract the wrong sort of male under any circumstances. If you are in doubt, simply look to me. You must be protected from scoundrels and fortune hunters at all costs. The point of this evening is to draw _eligible_ men. Only after extensive scrutiny and negotiation will we make a choice."

_We…?_

Orihime thought she would be used to such statements. Ainoko often spoke that way. But looking out the window with one ear turned to her stepmother, she felt a lance of annoyance. Shouldn't _she_ have some say in whom she married? What could it possibly matter to her step-parents if she picked one man over another?

Her thoughts were cut short as they arrived at Rangiku's sprawling palace of a house and climbed out.

The yearly debut had become so popular there were people waiting in lines outside to enter. Orihime saw Keigo Asano and Mizuiro Kojima on the far side of the entrance, and she returned Keigo's enthusiastic wave.

Her stepmother was appalled.

"Orihime, haven't I taught you better? Do not make such a display like a common-born woman."

Chastised, Orihime lowered her hand and followed Ainoko up the steps.

Rangiku pounced on them as soon as they entered the hall.

"Orihime! There you are— Oh, what is on your head…?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Ainoko. "And Inoue-san, you've been well, I trust? How is your hip?"

Ainoko was thrilled when Lady Matsumoto greeted her and even knew her name. Rangiku tossed Orihime a wink, and pulled her stepmother away, giving Orihime the opportunity to slip into the crowded main room.

With a grateful smile, she veered toward a gathering of familiar heads.

Keigo noticed her first and swept a bow so low he disappeared from sight for a moment before resurfacing. "Lady Inoue, you look even lovelier than I recall. May I have the honor of your first dance?"

There was a twinge in her throat, but she swallowed it back with a bright smile. "Ah, yes, of course. I'd love to dance with you."

"Such a gracious lady! But… I'm afraid I can't believe you until I see it in writing."

He held up a pencil.

Orihime giggled at his theatrics, and the suggestive eyebrow wiggle, but was quick to accept and let him write his name on her voucher.

Keigo gave it back and jerked an elbow into Mizuiro's ribs. "Did you hear that? Huh? She'd _love_ to dance with me."

Mizuiro rolled his eyes, but gave her a smile and a light nod. "Inoue-chan, it's good to see you out. I was beginning to wonder if they kept you locked up in that house of yours."

Orihime dropped her gaze. "W-Well… My step-parents are a little… traditional and−"

"Orihime!"

Orihime caught a flash of spectacles and bright red hair before arms were thrown around her shoulders.

"I almost didn't recognize you. What are you wearing on your head?"

"Chizuru?"

Around her friend, she glimpsed Ryo and Michiru walking at a slower pace.

Ryo shook her head in disgust. "You can release her now, I doubt she's going to go anywhere. Lady Matsumoto was just introducing Ainoko to a few lords of Court. The woman looked like she might faint. She won't be collecting her anytime soon."

Orihime colored again. It seemed everyone knew how short her leash had become over the past two years.

Chizuru freed her, though reluctantly.

"I was just saying hello," she sniffed.

"Then say it from a reasonable distance like the rest of us. You're making people stare. Some of us want to attract an offer tonight. A _male_ offer."

Chizuru wilted. "Don't remind me that I'll be forced to choose one of these simpletons." Turning to Orihime, "Surely you've set your sights higher than this outdated marriage racket they try to push off on us?"

"Well—"

Ryo laughed behind her hand. "Please, Honshō. You remember to whom her custody was granted, don't you?"

Orihime shifted, frowning at the word "custody". She wasn't a prisoner.

She pushed the conversation another direction. "Chizuru, your hair is uncovered. How did you get away with it? Aren't you afraid it will stop you getting a proposal?"

The group looked at her as if she'd sprouted a second wig in an even more garish color.

Ryo scoffed. "Wigs have been out for almost five seasons, Orihime. Powder is… acceptable, I suppose. You need to leave your cell more."

Keigo stepped up beside her. "I think it looks perfect. But of course, Orihime would look amazing no matter what she—"

Mizuiro jerked him back by the collar. "Excuse us, ladies. I think Mr. Asano needs some air."

"But my dance!"

Having ignored the men altogether, Chizuru fluffed her red curls with one hand. "No one but old women hide their color anymore. In fact, it's fashionable."

Orihime touched her wig, frowning.

Ryo looked her over.

"And a full corset?" She shook her head. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were trying to _keep_ you from finding—" Ryo stopped, eyes shifting over Orihime's shoulder.

"Lady Inoue?"

Orihime turned. For a moment, all she saw was blue.

Then her vision cleared and she realized it was a man.

There was a man standing in front of her with the brightest hair she'd ever seen, and his eyes were just as startling. They were as blue as his hair. And he was tall. She had to tilt her face up to look at him.

He was attractive, she supposed, but what held her attention was the curl of his lip. He looked angry. Or maybe not angry so much as displeased with the world and all the people in it. She watched it as he smoothed out his expression, seeming just as stunned by her appearance as she was his.

"Yes?"

Grimmjow stared. He couldn't half help it.

When Sorame said his daughter had red hair, he'd been expecting to find a girl with red hair. And from across the room, he'd been eyeing the obnoxious female with spectacles. Shit, he didn't know if he had enough fuckin' courage to go through with it. And that was saying something coming from a man that'd taken every dare thrown his was growing up.

But when the curvy, little creature beside her turned and answered…

He took one look at the black pile on her head and realized what must be hiding under there.

His lips twisted into a smirk.

It was a good development. A bullet sidestepped. He wasn't great at lying and deceit, but with this one, he almost wouldn't be faking anything.

Worthy prey for someone like him.

The other women vanished into the crowd, even the loud one was pulled away, leaving his target unsuspecting and unguarded.

How fucking polite.

Grimm had always teased Ichigo about having to be the one to beget an heir for that very reason. It seemed the bigger a girl's fortune, the shoddier the heiress that came attached to it. But this one's fortune promised to be as large as her rack. If her guardians could be believed anyway.

He recovered himself and gave his most charming grin.

"I was told you were the pick of the evening, and I should ask you for a dance."

He delivering the rehearsed line, smoothing his speech out, and the slight accent he'd picked up from running around the streets of Karakura evaporated.

This stuck up, tight-ass social shit wasn't his strong point, but he'd learned the rules. He'd had them drilled in, and if forced, he could play along.

At least, for a while.

Her mouth opened then shut, and she offered an apologetic smile and a tilt of her head. "I'm sorry, but I already have a partner."

Frowning, he followed her finger until it landed on a mousey, young male that didn't even look like he could grow facial hair. As Grimmjow watched, the— _shit, he couldn't even call him a man_— shoved an entire orange into his mouth and was working on fitting another.

His eyebrow twitched. _That_ was what she was preferring over _him_? Insulting.

Grimmjow turned back.

"That fuckin'—"

He stopped, biting his tongue.

"Then the next one," he growled, trying to force another smile.

"I'd love to, but…" Her silver eyes twinkled up at him, amused and a little regretful as she held up a card showing every space filled in with the same name. "He took them all."

He arched a brow at the glint in her eye. She was enjoying this.

Most women didn't dare tease him. Maybe she didn't know who he was.

Grimmjow gave her a flat look and plucked the card from her hand, scratching out the top name with a pencil he purloined from the couple beside them— ignoring the squeaks of outrage— before handing it back. "Looks like you're free."

Orihime squinted at his name, peeking over the top of the card. "Jaggertacks?"

"It's—" He eyed her poorly hidden smile. "Jaegerjaquez."

"Jackercracks?"

He froze then a slow grin worked over his face. "Jaegerjaquez. Grimmjow. You'll wanna remember that."

Orihime took a shaky breath, then swallowed and licked her lips as someone called from behind her. "That's… That's my partner."

Grimm studied her face.

He was as close as he dared get in a crowded room, but he could hardly fucking believe it. "Ya really gonna go with that twit instead'a me?"

Her eyes fell, "Good evening, Mr. Jaegerjaquez. It was nice to meet you."

After she'd scurried away, he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall and snorting when she turned back to look at him over her shoulder.

Just as well. He loved a good chase.

**A/N**

**Gooooood, I'm so sorry about how slow this story starts out, but it's all necessary, I swear. Nothing will make sense later if I don't cover this _ But things will pick up in the next chapter, and then it'll be flying. Maybe even Ichi will show up ;) **

**And to my beautiful reviewers :)**

SingingButterflyRose, SkinnyMoose, Windflight, anonymousP, Magdalena88, Snoozefest, Guest, Sariniste, shadows-nightmare95, Soaring Demoness, sweet-penelope, HeartsAlign, it0takes0skills0to0be0me, aira, Guest, yamada chibi, DeathBerryHime, Rochelleteentitan, chibisamasempai20, c83gilles, Aiasaka, LadyCassie, Innocent Serenity, naya, Fist Of Fire, StarFlake000, Indigo Yamanaka, naleah, nypsy, madeyemai, foreverhopeful21

**I love you guys so much, okay?**

**There were some really good questions and I can't answer a lot them because I don't want to give anything away, but I will say that Orihime is NOT a vampire. The hair thing is mostly nonsense. The majority of the population has dark hair, so they are prejudice against people that don't fit in. I got that tidbit from Ichi being teased about his hair in the manga. The standing rumor in this story is that people with abnormal hair colors, like the visored, are of vampire or shinigami descent. Those are separate races from the humans in this story, but I'll cover that more as thing heat up. **

**One more note. I started off romanizing the names, but then I was still typing in the Japanese honorifics, so yeah, those will be used interchangeably in this story, pretty much just because I'm a goof up .**


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Starcross'd

Warnings: Violence, gore, heavy sexual content.

Rating: M

**.**

**Chapter Three**

**.**

Ichigo snatched up a sheaf of papers, tossing them into his case before pointing at another stack for his valet. "Those too. I have to take them all."

Chad grunted, not needing much else to communicate. He'd served the Kurosaki family since he was twelve. To Ichigo, his wordless reverberations made perfect sense.

He snapped the document case closed. "Thanks."

Ichigo almost smacked into Grimmjow on the way out.

"Where're you goin' so fast?"

"They called an emergency session over some domestic affair. I can't really talk about it. There's money in the table."

"Huh. Didn't come for money."

Even in his hurry, Ichigo stared back with raised brows, pausing in his attempts to maneuver around his human obstacle.

"Give me that fuckin' face. I didn't." Grimmjow shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked like he was going to refuse to budge.

Ichigo clicked his tongue. "You can ride with me until King Street, but then I'm kicking you out. Get in the cab."

Grimmjow could be fast when he wanted, and since Ichigo didn't have to threaten to haul his ass in for him, he was guessing he came to talk about something important.

"Well?" he prompted, when the other man failed to say anything as they started down the street.

Snapping from his daze, Grimmjow propped long legs up on the opposite bench and stared at the tops of his boots. "I'm gonna start courtin' someone."

_Courting…?_

Ichigo stopped fussing with his case. Well, that was news. Grimm was notorious for his insatiable exploits. And with more than just females.

"Okay..."

"That's all ya got to say?" Grimm snapped, flinging an irritated look.

He scowled. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Tell me not to, asshole."

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo went back to searching for the name of the man that would brief the heads of the noble families when they arrived. Damn. His father would know. His father seemed to know _everyone_. "Yeah, it sounds like you're real serious about this. I'll be sure to stick that in my next letter home. Mother was starting to lose hope."

Grimmjow shuddered. "You'd better not."

He snorted. "So…" Shuffling more paper. "Who is it?"

"Inoue. Inoue Ora… Ori— something or other."

Ichigo lowered the document, slanting Grimm an incredulous look over the top. The surname sounded familiar. Another name he should probably know, but he couldn't place it. "You don't even know her name?"

"I'm workin' on it." Grimm turned in his seat to glare out the opposite window.

Ichigo stared.

That was it. Something was up. Causing a huge fuss over a small matter he refused to discuss was Grimmjow's way of trying to ask for help. And it sounded like he was having a hard time scraping the words out around his pride.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Dunno. You're supposed ta care or somthin'. Talk me out of it. Or throw me a party."

"You want _me_ to throw you a party? Are you out of your mind? You constantly tell me how boring I am, and that I wouldn't know a good time if it kicked me in the balls." He lifted a hand before Grimmjow could interrupt. "Exact quote."

"Then just… come with me to one or some shit! Fuck, Kurosaki, you're bad at this best man shit."

"Best—" He dropped his face into a hand and dragged it down with a groan. This was not what he was supposed to be thinking about right now. He would be in court in less than an hour. Opening his eyes he noticed they'd pulled up to the corner of King Street, the driver waiting for further instruction. "Fine. We'll do that. As soon as you remember the lucky girl's name."

Ignoring Grimm's agitated raving about how he shouldn't be the one talking about remembering names, Ichigo opened the carriage and shoved him out with a foot, slamming the door on the startled squawk that followed.

-o-

Sipping her tea the next morning, Orihime avoided her step-mother's piercing gaze. She was positive that if the woman stared at her any harder, her eyes were going to fall out and roll across the table. The idea was so engrossing that it took her a moment to realize her name was being called.

She jerked her gaze up, embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming.

Ainoko gave her another cursory once-over. Her lips twitched in what might have been a smirk "You've had that faraway look all morning, child. Did something interesting happen last night while I was… indisposed?"

"I-Interesting?" Taking time to gather her thoughts, she reached down and plucked up her tea, drawing a long sip. "Not really. Most of the night I just spent catching up with childhood friends."

She couldn't help but think that with Ainoko's extreme dislike of her bright hair, she'd also be biased against Grimmjow. Perhaps, Orihime would even be punished for her shameless flirting. But did Ainoko know already? Was that why she'd been getting that suspicious look all morning?

Ainoko sat back, lips thinning. "That's all?"

Orihime nodded, taking another deep sip of tea.

"I don't believe you. Where is your dance stub?"

Sputtering into her drink, Orihime gasped for breath. "I— I'm afraid I didn't… That is— I lost it."

"You _lost_ it? The memento of your first evening out as a woman?"

"Um… Yes?"

Orihime's fingers were locked on her cup as Ainoko regarded her with impassive brown eyes. "I see. You danced with no one? You met no one?"

"Well…" Guilt ate at her. She wasn't a good liar under the best circumstances, never mind being caught off guard. "I did share a few dances."

"With whom? Was it Mr. Jaegerjaquez?"

Orihime blinked. She didn't know her step-mother was aware of him by name, or at all for that matter. He wasn't in her usual circle of influence.

Ainoko knew. Orihime was certain.

Ainoko was leaning forward again, the edge of the table cloth clutched in her hand.

Orihime looked back up into her step-mother's eyes, and something she saw there raised the hair at the back of her neck. Without knowing why, she bit off her impending confession before it could come out.

"With Keigo Asano."

Ainoko's mouth fell open, but she snapped it shut again.

Orihime was quick to continue, although she kept her gaze trained on her plate. "It was a pleasant evening. Do you…" She peeked up. "Do you know Jaegerjaquez-san?"

Ainoko looked stunned by the inquiry, but failed to answer the question. Sitting back, the flinty look reappeared as she redirected Orihime to the relevant topic.

"Keigo Asano? He's a rather boorish young man."

"Are you angry?"

A snort. "No, no, Orihime. If you choose to waste all the strident efforts your father and I have made to see you settled into a decent marriage, who am I to complain? If you choose to enter into an ill-suited arrangement, why should I say anything? By all means, Orihime, waste your privilege and title on someone half your station. I will have no qualms with it. Or with you, for that matter."

Ainoko stood, pushing her seat back, face flushed only to have her foot tangle in the chair legs. She stumbled and fell with a cry.

"O-Oka-san!" Orihime pushed her own chair back, rushing to Ainoko's side. "Someone help!"

Orihime crouched as best she could in her dress and corset. Two maids scurried in and a third lingered in the door. Orihime heard her calling for a footman.

Her step-mother cried out in pain when Orihime touched her and she shrank back. "I'm sorry… I…"

The footman lifted Ainoko from the floor. She wailed, then reached out and clutched Orihime's hand, halting him.

"I just... want what's best for you… Orihime."

Guilt stabbed her heart, her breath hitching and tears pricking her eyes. "We don't have to talk about this now, Oka-san. I'm sorry. I'll… I'll do as you wish."

Ainoko released her hand. A pained smile crossed her features as she was carried from the room.

-o-

Orihime stared at her reflection in Yoruichi's studio mirrors. Her face still pale from a stressful morning. She'd offered to stay with Ainoko and forgo her afternoon lesson, but her step-mother wouldn't hear of it.

Yoruichi stood in the mirror behind her, twisting long, auburn hair into spiraling curls that flowed down her back. Even troubled, she had to admit her stomach still fluttered with a small trill of excitement for her costume. She'd never imagined her hair could be so beautiful.

"You seem upset."

Catching Yoruichi's perceptive look, she sighed. "I'm not certain this is a good idea. My step-mother—"

"I thought we'd agreed to let me worry about your step-mother?"

"It's just…" Orihime tried to grasp the right words, but they eluded her. She lifted her shoulders and let them fall.

"Perhaps your mind will change when you see your dress."

When Yoruichi whisked back around the corner with a shimmering, fluttering garment, Orihime stared.

It was so beautiful she couldn't speak. A trembling hand reached out to caress it. The delicate beadwork, the fine stitching. Layers of thin golden fabric. The dress must've cost a fortune.

And she badly wanted to try it on.

Knowing before she said anything, Yoruichi helped slip it over her head, tugging at the gauzy sheets that made the skirt. They flowed into a sheer waterfall of fabric from waist to thigh. It rippled with her movements. The beaded top covered her well-endowed bust, crisscrossing below her breasts then up and around her neck to leave her shoulders bared.

Yoruichi slid long gloves up her arms, covering the abundance of exposed flesh.

It was a scandalous creation, but Orihime loved it.

"It's beautiful. You made this?"

"Yes, it's a replica of a dress that was unearthed from some of the ruins in the outer provinces. Lovely isn't it? Not quite the fashion, but that hardly matters when it suits you. And there are wings as well, but you'll have to come to the ball if you want to see those," she tempted, giving her that wicked, sharp-toothed smile.

Yoruichi's eyes were alight with mischief.

Orihime wavered. The dress covered up more of her shoulders and chest than her normal dresses, but it was so tight against her skin, and without a corset beneath, there was little left to imagine. "I-I can't. The dress is… It's beautiful, but I couldn't wear it in public."

Yoruichi laughed. "The ball isn't what anyone would call public. And trust me, they've worn far worse, girl. You're friend Rangiku once wore nothing at all." Ignoring Orihime's opened mouth and wide eyes, she scoffed. "These are not like the things you've attended. You'll fit in. _Well_… You're far too beautiful to simply fit in, but you'll not be scorned. I can promise that. You look more like a misplaced deity than a fae."

Flushing, Orihime looked back over the dress. If she pretended someone else was standing there, she could admit that it held a certain appeal.

"Will you go with me? I don't think I could go alone."

"Of course, I'll be there. As I said, the host is an old friend."

"You don't think someone will recognize me?"

Yoruichi waved a hand as if it were a magic wand, plucking a mask from a shelf a holding it over Orihime's face. "Leave everything to me."

-o-

When Orihime arrived back to her house, it was well after five. She'd spent longer than usual with Yoruichi, and she'd also dropped in on the Visored for what Tatsuki called "a short training session." Uryu had even been kind enough to walk them most of the way home.

She was happy he seemed to be finding his place with Shinji and the others comfortable, but to her, he still seemed distant with them. She'd have to remember to drop by and see him more often so that he didn't become lonely.

As she crossed into the entry, Tatsuki trailing behind, Ainoko was waiting in a chair.

"You're late, Orihime."

Tatsuki met her eyes with a concerned glance before leaving to attend her regular duties.

Orihime faced her step-mother. "Yes, my lesson ran long." Which was true enough. She didn't feel the need to add that she'd also stopped by the market place. "How are you feeling? You're out of bed."

"You had a visitor."

Orihime took the calling card Ainoko offered and her shoulders stiffened. _Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez_.

There could be no hiding it now. She bit her lip.

Orihime placed the card back on the mantle. "Are you sure you're well enough for—"

"I'm always well enough to discuss your future, Orihime."

Since her efforts at subversion where already amiss, Orihime decided to face the situation and beg forgiveness, but Ainoko spoke first.

"He is a fine gentleman, don't you think? Titled, and his family is influential. It was a shame you weren't here to greet him. I applaud your efforts with Lady Shihōin, however, you mustn't fall behind on the other social requirements. The next time Jaegerjaquez-san calls, I'd like you to be here to receive him."

Orihime stared.

Ainoko… _wanted_ her to see Jaegerjaquez-san? She almost couldn't believe it. That hadn't been what she was expecting at all, and it took her more than one try to respond.

"Y-Yes, Oka-san."

-o-

When Orihime arrived at Yoruichi's studio Friday evening, it was in something of a daze.

The woman herself had come to fetch her, once again ensconced in the visage of stern taskmaster. She had coaxed Ainoko to consenting with a tale of extra lessons. She'd claimed that only top pupils were offered such a rare opportunity, and following her competitive nature, Ainoko had consented without further prompting.

It had been so simple. Orihime spent the entire time while Yoruichi discussed matters with Ainoko waiting for something to go wrong. But when they'd reached their destination, Orihime relaxed by a degree. Now, standing in front of the mirror in her costume, her belly was once again flitting with butterflies.

Was this a mistake? What if her step-mother found out?

Yoruichi zipped up Orihime's gown and finished tying the ribbons that held the glittering wings in place.

"It's… Yoruichi, they're perfect."

The delicate extensions the woman crafted were exquisite. Painted silk gauze shimmered between thin wires protruding from her back. They were gold as well, matching the rest of the dress and ribbons crisscrossing up her calves. And as a finishing touch, Yoruichi had forgone the carved mask and had painted the skin around her eyes instead.

Deep violet and navy paint with touches of shining gold for accent concealed her identity. Delicate swirls and twists blended in a flawless recreation of the real thing. And as Yoruichi had mentioned, there was no danger of paint falling off or being lost in a careless moment.

She felt like an actress on stage.

"Your fair coloring is perfect for this. I can hardly believe how much it suits you." Yoruichi slipped the long gloves up her arms, readjusting the bangles.

Orihime couldn't imagine Yoruichi complimenting _her_ when the woman's own outfit was so spectacular.

Dressed as a cat sidhe, Yoruichi was dazzling. Slick black cloth covered her head to foot with the exclusion of the tops of her breast and shoulders. A pair of soft ears perched on her head and a tail dangled behind her.

It made Orihime feel somewhat better that she was not the only one on display, but she still pulled her long cloak around her shoulders as they exited the studio, drawing up the hood. It would be very bad if someone were to recognize her before they'd even left.

The traffic outside the mansion backed all the way down to the square, and as they approached, Yoruichi rapped on the roof to signal the driver to stop. "We'll walk from here, otherwise we shall spend the entire evening waiting for the carriage just to make it down the street."

Orihime was quick to agree and headed after Yoruichi.

The crowd on the sidewalks was just as packed as the traffic on the street and it took several minutes to reach the sweeping steps of their destination.

As they walked, she looked about in wide-eyed fascination at the range of other costumes. Everyone had put their all into what they were wearing.

There were so many people Orihime recognized, she could hardly believe it. She saw Keigo Asano's father dressed as a jester with his arm wrapped around a woman that wasn't his wife— which shocked her greatly. And Chizuru's father _and_ mother were entering the house garbed a satyr and nymph.

Members of Court came and went throughout the crowd. That they would be attending something of this nature was an astonishment.

She pulled her hood closer.

"Now, now, there's no fear that they will recognize you. Relax. You haven't even been considered society material for a little over a week. Most of these people have only seen you in passing. Trust me, they will not know you for who you are."

Orihime swallowed and nodded, continuing after her.

But when she stopped again, Yoruichi turned with exasperated amusement in her eyes.

Orihime pointed at a tall man with sweeping white hair that lounged by a dark-haired gentleman in a pink mantle and straw hat. "That's —"

Yoruichi followed her finger.

"Hmm, the lords Ukitake and Kyōraku. Shunsui often drags Jūshirō to these sorts of events. Being a young woman, you wouldn't know this, but these parties are as much a social obligation for men as the balls your step-mother insists you attend. Many financially beneficial contracts can be struck over a drink with a woman on their lap. What man wouldn't prefer that to a stifling symposium?"

Orihime turned her face toward Yoruichi, shocked that she would be on first name terms with such prominent members of the Court. Noble family heads at that.

Orihime's brother had been a lord in title only. He had a right to appear before the king, but he ruled no province, so he'd never had a say in legislation beyond the basic rights accorded to someone of title. But these noble heads reported directly to the king. It was the highest office one could aspire to outside of being born into the royal family.

And they were loitering on the street like anyone else.

Then she paused as that struck her. Had her brother attended parties like this?

"Would you like to meet them?"

Broken from her startling thought, she turned with a squeak, eyes widening. "N-no! I couldn't. I don't think that's such a good—"

Yoruichi was already moving, reaching up to poke the tall dark-haired man on the shoulder. "Shunsui, and as colorful as ever, I see. You're blocking the path."

Turning, Shunsui nodded his head in polite greeting latching onto his hat to keep it on his head. A smile settled over his features. When his eyes slipped past Yoruichi and landed on her, Orihime felt her cheeks heat at the appraising glance. "Lady Yoruichi." He kissed her hand. "And who is this lovely creature? A new applicant perhaps?"

He placed a kiss on Orihime's hand as well, and she flushed a darker shade.

"You may only look, you old scoundrel. This one is off limits."

The lord placed a hand over his heart. "The party has just begun and already women are denying me. This certainly doesn't bode well for my evening, eh, Ukitake?"

The man beside him smiled, but when he met Orihime's eyes, she felt none of the mischief of the other lord, and she gave a wide smile back, leaving both men blinking after them as Yoruichi pulled her away.

"Something tells me I'm going to have to watch you closely," she murmured in Orihime's ear when they started up the steps.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, my dear. You are doing everything right. In fact, if you don't find a suitable man to marry, I could quite easily set you up with a comfortable arrangement."

Orihime tilted her head, wondering what the woman meant by that, but as they crossed the threshold, she forgot what she'd been about to ask.

There were costumes from every era, covering every social caste. From gods and goddesses, to humble beggars, poets and princesses. There was even a nomad that resembled a visored and as he turned to look at her, he flashed a pair of dramatic, porcelain fangs.

Orihime shuddered, stepping back and bumping into someone entering behind her.

Yoruichi caught her arm and pulled her forward.

Huge sheets of colored fabric hung from the ceilings, reflecting candle light into a myriad of different hues. The marble foyer and what she saw of the many rooms beyond were all lit by more candles than she could ever count.

Even as they entered a larger room, a servant carrying a candelabra stepped too close, and she gasped as the heat from the flames danced over her cheeks, stumbling and throwing an arm over her face.

The man stuttered out an apology, looking penitent, even though his eyes kept straying downward, and he only stopped trying to ask for forgiveness when Yoruichi threatened him physical harm.

"Are you alright?"

Orihime swallowed, trying to calm her racing heart and offer an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"That's understandable. I don't believe anyone would like to be set on fire. Do you need some air?"

Shaking her head, Orihime put more effort into her smile. "No, I'm fine now."

Yoruichi gave her another long look. She snagged a glass of wine from a tray floating by. "Here, drink this. It will make you be more at ease."

The liquid was dark in the goblet, it sparkled a deep red. She'd never been given straight wine. Ainoko always ordered it thinned with water. Yoruichi however wasn't treating her like a child, and in the face of it, she didn't feel like a child.

Orihime took the glass, and after a few sips, comforting warmth began to spread through her limbs.

Her smile came easily after that. The room no longer seemed like it perched waiting to find out all her secrets. She laughed often, and when people looked at her, she looked back without feeling the need to drop her gaze.

An hour in, Orihime decided it was the most fun at a party she'd ever had.

-o-

Ichigo pressed his lips, struggling to remember how he'd allowed Grimmjow to drag him to such a shameless event.

He hated it.

The costumes were obnoxious. It was dark, hot, noisy. And the only thing on his mind was how much he wanted to leave.

At half past nine, most of the revelers were already well into the wine supply, and he'd already managed to lose his cousin. Actually, that had happened in the first five minutes, which made him wonder if Urahara wasn't hosting a private gambling party somewhere.

It was the only thing Ichigo always knew with Grimmjow. If there was something to lose money on nearby, he would sniff it out like a bloodhound.

Ichigo shook his head, passing through the crowd. A dark-haired woman in a loin dress rubbed up against him and he pulled away with a scowl. When she failed to take the hint, he directed it her way, and she started, spilling a hurried apology as she fled.

He would've felt bad for that once, but years of experience taught him early that the majority women were only interested in his money and title.

Whether it was another noble trying to pin him down with his daughter, or the women themselves, Ichigo made a point not to court any female that approached him first. And after a while, he earned the reputation as a bachelor. His mother had been horrified. He couldn't have been more relieved.

"Ah, Kurosaki-kun!"

Brown eyes snapped shut and he cursed, willing it to be his imagination. Of all the things to deal with tonight…

Ichigo turned and opened his eyes to glare full-force at the man approaching.

Kisuke Urahara stopped beside him, garbed in an emerald green housecoat, waving a tacky, jeweled fan. "Glad to see you've finally broken down and decided to attended one of my little soirées, Kurosaki-kun. I was beginning to lose hope," he said, babbling with overly-loud cheer.

Ichigo's expression didn't change, but after a long pause, he gave up the glare and turned to look for his blue-haired cousin. "Grimm brought me, it wasn't voluntary."

"Oh, well, the reason you're here hardly matters! Your parents will be so thrilled to hear…"

Ichigo tuned him out, going back to his search when something caught his eye.

A flash of gold.

His brow furrowed when someone stepped into his path, blocking his sight. He growled and tried to step to the side only to be blocked again.

For a second, he would've sworn…

With one hand he jerked the man out of his view, and Ichigo's eyes shot open.

A lean form, narrow waist, plenty of curves, but that wasn't what held his attention. Long auburn hair dangled down her back, a shade he could've never mistaken.

_That's…_

It was a mistake. He was imagining it or… What the fuck? Was he dreaming during the day now? Seeing things that weren't there? Was he going crazy?

His heart was pounding as he stared.

"Hm?" Kisuke stepped up beside him. "Oh, I see you've noticed Yoruichi's latest vixen. Stunning isn't she?"

"Yoruichi?"

He wasn't aware he'd spoken until he said it, and the words seemed faraway and hollow. That should mean something to him, but it wasn't processing.

He was going mad.

That was _her_.

The girl he'd seen in his dreams for so many years he'd lost count. He itched with the need to touch her. To make sure she was real.

But if he was imagining her, then so was Yoruichi. And Urahara had also pointed her out. He'd never told anyone outside his family about his strange dreams with the exception of Rukia. This couldn't be some elaborate hoax, could it?

From across the room, he saw Yoruichi lean down and whisper something into her ear and she burst into a fit of laughter.

She turned his direction and he took a sharp breath.

And even though her face was covered by a mask, he knew what it looked like. Even from where he stood, all the way across the hall, out of earshot, he knew exactly what that laugh would sound like. Knew exactly how she'd smile even as it curved her lips. Why wouldn't he? He'd seen it a thousand times. _No_. More than that.

His hands had clenched so tight he couldn't feel his fingers.

Beside him, Urahara was saying something, but he didn't hear it. There was a tug on his arm, but he didn't turn.

That face. He'd never been quite able to remember it. Just a fuzzy idea, a concept, but there was no doubt in his mind. Everything came crashing back. Every dream. And every moment in them.

That's what she was.

He was staring at the incarnation of his dreams.

Ichigo jerked free of the hold someone had on his arm. He was afraid to look away. Afraid she would disappear, but she didn't.

"Ichigo!"

His head snapped to Urahara's. He never called him by his given name. The man looked concerned, but Ichigo only shook his head.

"With Yoruichi?" he asked again.

Eyes sharpening, Urahara nodded, and something heavy settled into the pit of Ichigo's stomach. He swallowed and looked back at the golden vision. The torch light reflected of her hair, turning it to flame and he shuddered, unnerved.

But why…? Why did it have to be Yoruichi?

He took in the golden dress, the revealing nature, and his fist clenched tighter.

It didn't matter. Not what she was, not what Yoruichi had planned for her.

He couldn't let it happen.

-o-

"Yoruichi."

The hard voice came from behind her. It brushed a familiar string of nerves, and Orihime shivered. Then she turned, blinking up curiously.

A man stood there. And as she looked, his gaze flicked to her, almost as if he couldn't help it, before moving back to Yoruichi. Orihime quailed under the abrupt brush of amber, so intense it felt like a physical thing.

A part of her mind noted that he didn't use Yoruichi's title, but she'd said that all her friends called her by her first name, so maybe they were close.

"Ichigo," Yoruichi drawled. "It's been a long time…"

Orihime shifted, trying not to let her emotions show. There was something about him...

The man's only response was to glance at Orihime again. This time the contact lingered and her pulse fluttered, something in his eyes made her lightheaded and dizzy.

Yoruichi tilted her head, looking between them. "Ah, I see." She smiled furtively at Orihime. "Perhaps, I'll refresh my glass."

_Wha…?_

Orihime panicked as her escort vanished into the crowd, leaving her alone with the strange man that made her feel... She didn't know what she was feeling. Her body was flushed, tingling but numb at the same time. Her mouth had gone dry. She had no experience with men. Didn't know what to do…

And his eyes were burning down into hers, searching. She wondered if he'd noticed Yoruichi leaving at all.

Stepping closer, and he was already so close, he said something that made her heart stop.

"You have no idea, how much danger that woman could be putting you in." His voice dropped and he spoke almost softly. Still, he didn't release her from that penetrating gaze.

Orihime couldn't move.

He shook his head, reaching out, fingers hovering just over her shoulder before he stopped himself. "Who _are_ you?"

**A/N**

**Yes, I know this chapter was extremely late, but I'm having a big problem with motivation for it all of the sudden, which kinda felt like getting kicked in the spleen, since I spent so long planning it and was so excited, but yeah. Blah. **

**And on that happy note, a big thanks to my reviewers that I love C:**

bowlfullofcherries, wolfchick55, jylener22, jubulicious, zodious, flowerdrop, Jubee-chan, madeyemai, nypsy, Fist Of Fire, Xtremefairy, Guest, Tahaku, sweet-penelope, naleah, Guest, Soaring Demoness, IchigoOrihime, anonymousP, DeathBerryHime, Renee Tanaka, inuyashalvrtoo, and Misha.

**Thanks so much you guys! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Starcross'd

Warnings: Violence, gore, heavy sexual content.

Rating: M

**.**

**Chapter Four**

**.**

"_Who__are__you?"_

Orihime opened her mouth and almost made a catastrophic mistake. She started to say the words, would have told him automatically if she hadn't had to pause to wet dry lips.

This wasn't right…

She couldn't tell him her name. It was a secret.

Her mind rebelled. There was no way she should feel these things for a man she'd just met. Even through her wine induced haze, Orihime recognized she had to get away from him. This man was dangerous. Something bad would happen. She knew it with more certainty and with more clarity than she'd ever known anything in her whole life.

The way he was looking at her—

Her wine was in her hand and then it wasn't. It took her a full second to realize she'd thrown it in his face.

She hadn't meant to, it'd been a reflex.

But there was no time to be shocked at her actions, because she was moving, breaking through the crowd and running in a way she never had before. Flat out, panicked, afraid for her life. The faces and colors around her were a blur, and somewhere in her mind she felt guilty for ruining his pristine black and white suit with her drink… But another part insisted she'd do whatever necessary to get free.

When she reached the steps, she spotted Yoruichi in a similar haste, gathering their cloaks.

"Y-Yoru—"

"Yes, I saw," the woman said in a clipped voice, throwing the cloth around Orihime's shoulders and pulling up the hood. "You certainly don't lend yourself to a dull evening. Do you know who that was?"

Orihime's breath was still coming in gasps, but she followed as Yoruichi pulled her through the front doors and they hurried down the steps. "That…That man…"

"Was Lord Ichigo Kurosaki."

Orihime nearly choked, eyes flying open, digging her heels into the stone driveway and covering her open mouth. "I-I threw wine on him!"

"Yes, you did. Allow me to add a lesson to the etiquette portion of your instruction. Never throw a drink at a man in direct line for the thrown."

She hid her face with her hands, not caring if she smeared her painted mask. "Oh, no… I didn't."

"Oh, yes. You did." They rounded the corner of the estate and Yoruichi hustled her toward their carriage. "His father is the Duke of Karakura. And last year on his nineteenth birthday, he was accelerated into the peerage so that Isshin could remain in their province, and Ichigo could serve in Court. When his entry year is over, he'll be the Marquess of Karakura, then someday, Duke. And I've already given him a reason to loathe me, girl, I'd rather not give him another. It will be hard keeping your identity a secret from him. He could make things… difficult for me."

She was horrified. Her fingers were cold and shaking where they clasped her cloak to her shoulders.

The carriage driver scrambled down when he saw them, and opened the cab.

Yoruichi bundled her in, but paused at the door.

Orihime still shivering, frowned. "Are you not coming?"

"I've still some business to attend. Go home. Tell your stepmother you're feeling ill." She stopped again, but this time a smile graced her lips. "He wouldn't have harmed you. Ichigo's a cold fish. Or so I've been told. There's even a rumor he doesn't enjoy the company of women. Why did you run?"

"I… I don't know."

"I take it back. I don't believe I could set you up with a comfortable arrangement. You should marry a man you love and grow old with him."

Orihime didn't understand and Yoruichi didn't give her time to ask. She closed the door, issued a sharp command to the driver, and the carriage took off.

Orihime watched out the back window as Yoruichi faded into the crowd and into the night.

Then the seat under her hands jerked.

Orihime cried out as the vehicle lurched. The horses' shrill calls echoed, and she heard a man's voice cutting through. The door beside her came open, and before she knew what was happening, she was tugged out, caught by strong arms. She was easily turned so that her back rested against a hard chest.

She drew a breath to scream, but her attacker saw it coming and covered her mouth with his hand.

Then there was a low voice in her ear. "Don't scream. I'm not going to hurt you."

Orihime didn't listen. She fought to get free and when that failed, tried to crane her head around to see him. But there was no reason. She already knew who had her. Her body shook, trembling so hard she knew he felt it. She tried to speak, to ask what he wanted with her, but under his hand, it only sounded like inarticulate whimpers.

Another carriage pulled up beside them, dark black with four matching horses.

Her own transportation wasn't moving, and she strained to call out or make any noise so the driver would hear and rescue her. She could see him sitting there, his tall hat standing out against the moonlight, but he didn't even turn.

Why… Why wasn't he helping her?

A second later she was deposited into the velvet interior, and she scurried as far out of reach as possible. She tried jerking open the opposite door, but it was locked. Orihime let out a despairing breath and turned to keep the dangerous man in her sight. Her back jammed into the corner as the young lord slid into his seat and closed the other door.

The carriage took off without any command she could see, and she fought the urge to give in to terror.

He said he wouldn't hurt her, but where was he taking her? And why should she believe the words of a kidnapper, whether he was titled or not?

What if he _murdered_ her?

And why hadn't Yoruichi's driver helped— But… But he couldn't have, could he? Ichigo Kurosaki. A magistrate. A member of Court. The driver would have followed his direction without question or been thrown in prison.

Orihime swallowed. She didn't dare take her eyes off of him.

Though, for a kidnapper, he seemed nervous. Anxious. One had fisted into a white knuckled grip atop a long leg. He wasn't even looking at her. Instead, he was staring out the window. That fierce scowl was back, his jaw working.

He glanced at her and she started.

"I said I wasn't going to hurt you."

Her heart beat so hard when he spoke, she could feel it like a knife cutting behind her breastbone. It took two tries to form a response and even when she succeeded, her voice was small. "Then… Then why did you abduct me?"

The flinch was so slight, Orihime wondered if she'd imagined it.

"I'm not—" He forced out a breath and shoved a hand through his hair. "I just want to talk. That's all. Surely a woman in your profession has time to talk to a potential client."

Her hands were still trembling in her lap and she clenched them tighter into her dress to stop it. She'd never seen him before in her life. Orihime couldn't imagine what he'd have to say to her. And what did he mean "her profession?" When she turned eighteen, she would have a courtesy place in Court on her brother's behalf. Was this about her being titled?

Or perhaps he was simply _deranged_.

Tears formed in her eyes and she took a quiet breath to keep them from spilling. "Where are you taking me?"

"My residence. It's not far."

He'd gone back to looking out the window, lips pressed and his brow drawn lower. It was as if he was contemplating something that weighted him down, and for a second, he looked younger than nineteen. Much younger.

But what was she doing?

She couldn't start feeling sympathy for this man she didn't even know. He'd captured her… Kidnapped…

Orihime sunk further into the bench as sudden understanding dawned on her.

He thought she was a… a _courtesan._

The carriage slowed, pulling up to a grand house that boasted several stories.

"You can't do this… _Please_."

There was a long pause while he sat unmoving. He didn't respond to her words, but she hoped he was considering them. When he pulled open the door, her flickering optimism crumbled.

"You can leave after we talk. You have my word."

Orihime's arms were wrapped tight around her middle. She stared at her lap as she thought hard, then nodded. What choice did she have?

He held a hand out to her, and she took it, trying not to think about how warm it felt against her cold skin as she descended.

The house was large and the future marquess led the way up the steps. He opened the door, waving back the large servant that approached, who in turn melted back into the shadows when he saw the lord was not alone.

The lord opened a pair of heavy, wooden doors and Orihime hesitated before following in time to see him light some of the lamps inside. When he was finished he went to a cabinet and poured a glass of ochre liquid, draining it in one swallow.

She watched almost fascinated when he grimaced and set the glass aside.

Then he turned, moving to face her, and again, she felt the force of those burning, turbulent eyes.

"You don't know me?"

Of all the things she might've expected, it hadn't been that.

Orihime took a small step forward to study him closer, but shook her head. "Should I?" For a long moment, she stared then looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm not a… a…" Orihime licked her lips. "I'm not what you think I am."

He snorted, gave a sharp nod.

He knew how the game went.

And Yoruichi trained them well. She would never outright call herself an escort.

Ichigo let his eyes travel over her, from the bright, twisting hair to the pale skin and down to small feet. An almost painful lump formed in his throat and his fingers twitched at his side. She was beautiful. As stunning as he remembered, and his body responded, heat seeping into his system even though he willed it away.

He was still uncertain this wasn't all some evil, devious plot to have a laugh at his expense. But faced with the sight of her. With the reality of her. He was trapped. If it was a joke, it was damn elaborate. If it wasn't… He didn't know how she could be there. She was the _exact_ copy of his dream, but she either didn't know it or she was playing games with him.

It didn't matter. He couldn't let her walk away and disappear.

He could deal with her being a... what she was. He didn't like it, but he'd had a good hour to come to terms with it.

But there was something… She seemed genuinely innocent. As if it was her first negotiation.

Hope stabbed through him, but he pushed it back. He needed to be rational. Calm.

"How much?"

Orihime frowned at him. "How much of what?"

"How much money do you want? Name it."

The drink had begun to settle his nerves. It was as if he was outside himself, watching without interfering. What else did a woman need if not money? What could she want? He tried to think of anything that might entice her.

His mouth opened. "I can give you a house, servants, private transport."

She clasped her arms around her stomach again.

He watched her closely as she shook her head as if uncertain.

Ichigo closed his eyes and tried not to think of how disappointed his mother would be if she could see him bartering this way. But this girl… He opened his eyes and looked at her again. She'd crept closer to the door. If she was as innocent as she looked… Just the thought of another man touching her…

And Yoruichi would doubtlessly be able to find another buyer.

_Fucking hell._ What was he doing?

But it wasn't like he'd actually touch her that way. He wasn't paying for sex. But if she were under a contract with him, she couldn't enter into an agreement with someone else, and he'd have time to think of a better course of action. He'd have time to figure out what the hell was going on.

"Carte blanche."

She froze, feet from the exit. "Carte… Carte blanche? I'm sorry, I don't…"

Ichigo almost smiled as he delivered the terms plainly. He was going to strangle Yoruichi. "You'll be free to act as you see fit, and you'd have unrestricted access to… any money you need."

He waited, narrowing his eyes and gritting his teeth when she only stared at him.

"But I don't want your money."

"Then what _do_ you want?"

She swallowed. "To go home."

Ichigo stiffened.

Was she rejecting him? He'd never been accused of being a snob, but he could hardly believe it. Women panted after him like bitches in heat. Threw themselves at even the smallest chance of becoming a future duchess.

Ichigo drug a hand through his hair, eyes squeezed shut. He shouldn't have drank. He couldn't think straight.

Had he misread the situation?

No. She'd been with Yoruichi. There wasn't any mistaking the services that woman provided.

Dropping his arm, he opened his mouth, but stopped.

She was gone.

-o-

Ichigo tapped his desk, staring at a pile of work he'd yet to touch.

He hadn't slept. Hadn't bothered with breakfast. He _had_ changed his drink-stained shirt. The only proof there was that he hadn't imagined the entire evening.

The effects of the drink had worn off after a few hours, leaving him to realize he'd let the girl slip away without even a name or way to contact her or find her again. Then he'd remembered Yoruichi's part, and his blood had been running cold ever since.

"Ichigo."

He looked up to see Chad, the doorway partially closed around him, but he already knew who was behind it. Nodding, he stood from his desk and walked to the front to cross his arms over his chest as Yoruichi entered.

She made a polite bow. "Ichigo."

His eyes narrowed. "Where is she?"

"I don't know who you mean."

"I'm not playing games."

She studied him, eyes calculating. "I'm certain of it. I don't believe I've seen you that interested in a female since—"

"We're not talking about that."

His face didn't change. He wasn't going to give her anything.

"What happened with Senna wasn't my fault. She was always flighty."

His teeth clenched. "We're talking about the girl from last night. Nothing else. I want her name."

"Ichigo—"

"Don't call me that."

She sighed. "Lord Kurosaki, you know that's confidential information. Even if society doesn't approve of what some of my girls do, there are no laws, and you have no authority over me here. This isn't Karakura."

"That's supposed to be some sort of justification?"

"No. If I wanted to justify it, I'd say that at least I give them a choice. That's more than they'd get from their parents who want them married off to the highest title they can snag. You should know that better than anyone."

"And it's just a windfall when you cut a profit from it."

Yoruichi laughed. "A procurator's fee isn't what anyone but you would call unscrupulous."

He was unmoved.

"Her name. And if you need a procurator's fee for that—"

"I don't," she said, cutting him off. "My answer hasn't changed. That girl was not being auctioned off. She's entering her majority within the year, but since she's no longer my pupil, you won't find her that way either. But I'm curious why you're so interested in her. You couldn't have spent more than a moment alone." She watched his every reaction. "Did she capture that infamous cold heart of yours so quickly?"

Wasn't being auctioned off? A pupil?

Bleeding hell, had he propositioned some nobleman's daughter?

He was certain some surprise must've shown on his face, because she tilted her head. "That _was_ the first time you've met, wasn't it? Or have you seen her before?"

Ichigo didn't know how to answer that question. He hesitated and she marked it, a smile curving along painted lips.

At least now, he had a way to find her. Or a starting place.

"What are you thinking, milord?"

His gaze snapped up. "That if you're not going to help me, I have another engagement to attend."

He moved back toward his desk.

"I suppose that's your high and mighty way of dismissing me?"

"It is."

Yoruichi laughed again, the sound grating along his nerves. "As always, Kurosaki-sama, it's was a pleasure."

Ichigo didn't respond as she bowed and left. Anything else would only encourage her to mock him further.

Dropping into his chair, he rested his elbows on the desk and covered his face with his hands.

He was leaving Seireitei for Karakura in a week. That was the point of his other appointment. Ichigo wanted to take something back for his sisters. He always did, and they'd begun to expect it. He might be able to return to the city to search for her at a later time, but if she was already up for marriage, by then it could be too late.

"Chad! Where did you put all those cards?" he yelled for his valet, searching over his desk. "The one's I told you to throw out."

Chad leaned in the door. "They're in your drawer. Second down on the right."

"Yeah, got 'em. Thanks."

Ichigo pawed through the invitations. Usually, he shied away from social functions, but if that was the only way to find her, he'd attend every goddam ball anyone in the city hosted.

There was a knock on his door, and Tsukishima entered, looking as seedy as he usually did after a night spent out.

Ichigo barely spared him a glance. "It's in the table."

"You seem busy, cousin. The burdens of being a future duke must be debilitating for you. Could that have anything to do with Lady Shihōin? I saw her leaving."

He flashed him a sharp look. "And you waited until she was gone. If you owe her money, I'm not paying it. And not that it's any of your business, but I have somewhere else to be."

Tsukishima laughed at the mention of owing Yoruichi a debt, but Ichigo noticed he didn't deny it. "Boring as ever, Ichigo."

"Is that all you needed?" Ichigo began arranging the invitations by date and time over the surface of his desk.

Tsukishima gave a mocking half-bow. Ichigo saw it from the corner of his eye, because he didn't bother looking.

The door closed behind him.

-o-

Orihime stirred her tea, glimpsing the gains of sugar that swirled to the surface before being dragged back down by the current left in the wake of her spoon. A servant set a basket of fresh rolls beside her, but she hardly noticed them.

That man.

Just who was he? She'd never in her life felt that kind of fear and… _excitement_ when faced with the opposite sex. She'd gotten a name of course. Ichigo Kurosaki. _Lord_ Ichigo Kurosaki. A magistrate and member of the Court. Could he imprison her for lying the way she had? For concealing her identity from him? Surely he wouldn't, but—

"Orihime, you've been stirring that tea for nearly ten minutes. What have I told you about letting your mind wander? And the rolls are becoming cold. You never go without—"

Orihime stood. "Excuse me, Oka-san. I'm not feeling well."

"Orihime. Orihime, whatever is the matter with you, child? If I didn't…"

She couldn't hear anymore as she rounded the door, allowing it to swing closed behind her.

She was being terribly rude, but today, she didn't feel as if she could take a lecture. Her stomach was in knots. Tension marred her brow, twisting the normally smooth skin into furrows. It was almost physically draining to be still.

Without intention, Orihime found herself at the library doors, pushing them open with a small smile. It was easy to find comfort in this place. In her brother's library, surrounded by things he'd loved.

She found a book and curled into her favorite chair.

After she'd fled Lord Kurosaki's house, the night before, Orihime hadn't known what to do, she been alone on the street at night. It was forbidden for a young woman. If she had been discovered out of her home without a chaperone, she would have been publicly disgraced. Luckily, her driver had trailed behind her captor's vehicle, and had been waiting outside.

It gave a small measure of credence to the lord's statement that he only wanted to speak with her since he'd ordered it to follow them. At least, he hadn't intended to commit murder like she'd thought. But if society knew she'd been alone with a man in his house, the outcome would be no different. She would still be disgraced.

And Lord Kurosaki had made it clear in what capacity he wanted to employ her.

Orihime ducked her head behind her book as her face flamed. But here, in the still of the library, she could admit to herself that the offer might have been flattering if she hadn't been so frightened. Orihime had inquired to Tatsuki about the meaning behind carte blanche. It was apparently a very desirable but rarely afforded compensation.

It was still difficult to believe that a man had wanted to be intimate with her…

The idea filled her with a teasing thrill now that she thought about it.

He had been handsome. With a strong set to his features, and a mysterious air that drew her wild imagination. And that shade of hair. Brighter than her own and tousled in the most careless way, as it he couldn't be bothered with it. She smiled at the thought, and at the memory of his fierce scowl.

He looked as if someone were constantly trodding on his foot.

Orihime giggled, toes curling under her.

She was terrible to enjoy another person's discomfort. But even his funny scowl was attractive enough. It was too bad she'd never see it again. She'd worn a mask, but she'd still have to be careful which functions she attended for a few months.

But thinking about avoiding his notice, brought back the first moment when their gazes had locked. As if by magic, she saw him standing before her, capturing her full attention. Just as she remembered, but looking quite surprised—

She blinked and sat up, her book falling to the floor.

That wasn't her imagination at all! He was standing in the library door, every bit as dangerously attractive as the night before.

Kami, he'd come to arrest her…

Orihime found her feet.

She thought to run, but there was only one exit from the room, and he was guarding it. Then she wondered if maybe he wouldn't recognize her, but his eyes gave his thoughts away.

He knew exactly who she was.

"How did you find me?"

Ichigo shook his head, just as stunned to see her in the library as she must be to see him. It'd be a lie to say he hadn't been looking for her, but the truth was he hadn't intended to find her here. It was a coincidence. An impossible coincidence, but there was nothing about her that should've been possible. She'd crawled out of his dreams for fuck's sake.

He watched her shift nervously.

Ichigo stepped back to see if anyone was coming down the hall before he moved inside, speaking quietly in case could be overheard

"I didn't. Not intentionally. Your doorman directed me this way. Your name's… Inoue?"

It was a guess. The name touched some part of his memory that had nothing to do with dreams. More like something he'd crossed over recently.

She jolted outright at her name. "Are you going to arrest me?"

"Arrest you?" His eyebrows furrowed. "No, I'm not here to arrest you, I—"

"Ah, Lord Kurosaki. I'm Sorame Inoue. It's an honor."

He frowned at the newcomer entering the door. The man that let his daughter out to gallivant all over town in the dead of night. Had he known where she was? Or was he simply careless a parent?

He felt a coolness creep into his gaze as he looked the man over. "Inoue-san."

The girl fidgeted and Ichigo could almost feel her discomfort like another presence in the room.

"I couldn't have been more thrilled to hear you were interested in our library." Sorame paused when he saw his daughter. "Orihime, I didn't realize you were in here."

_Orihime. _

Her name was Orihime.

Not a courtesan, but a lady. Young and unmarried. No wonder she was uncomfortable. Although, her distress seemed to take on a different quality at Sorame's words.

"Otou-san? What…You can't sell Sora's library. It's… It's priceless."

"Now, Orihime. These are matters for men to discuss. Why don't you run along and find Ainoko, eh?"

Her large silver eyes were wide as she looked between them, hands twisting over her chest, and Ichigo felt a stab of guilt.

"N-No. You can't sell the library... It's mine."

"_Orihime_. You are acting ill-bred in front of his lordship. It will not be tolerated. Go on, out with you."

She lifted her chin, shifting from foot to foot as though she wanted to argue, but she didn't. She bit her lip and lowered her head. He saw tears on her cheeks as she hurried from the room.

He thought to reach out and catch her as she ran by, and only just stopped himself. Damn it. He'd given her another reason to hate him.

Ichigo turned back to Sorame and cut him off when he would've spoken. His voice was hard with repressed anger. "I was under the impression that the library belonged to you."

"Yes, well, I am the proprietor of my stepdaughter's estate. The girl is willful, but I still have the right to do with this library as I see fit. So we may proceed. Have no fear."

"Stepdaughter? And you're the guardian?"

Sorame raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but I assure you, I have every legal precedent until she is eighteen. The purchase will still be viable."

"Not for me. I've changed my mind."

"But, milord—"

Ichigo passed through the door. He needed to get away from this man before he did something rash. Like put a fist into his jaw.

"You don't need to show me out. I remember the way."

He left Sorame gawking behind him as he exited. The doorman opened the door as he reached it and standing on the threshold was his cousin, hand poised to knock.

Grimm stared, arm lowering. "What're you doin' here?"

Ichigo blinked then scowled. Shouldn't he be the one asking that? But even as he thought it, the conversation from two days prior came to him. And it all suddenly made sense.

"_Who is it?"_

"_Inoue. Inoue Ora… Ori— something or other."_

Ichigo shook his head. "This is the girl?"

Grimm didn't look pleased. "Yeah, so what're ya doin' here?"

The world seemed to roll beneath his feet. He felt sick. "Leaving."

**A/N**

**Just a few notes. The chapter lengths will be a bit more normal now that the first couple of boring chapters are over. Sorry. I just wanted to get through those first two. They're critical to the story, but yeah, I'm aware that they weren't griping or anything, although the pace of the story will pick up now. There should be some pretty solid IchiHime action from here on out, with just a break now and then.**

**Also, I will say that we have yet to see anything supernatural happening, but that's the only clue I'll give. Trust me, when it hits it's gonna be like a freaking freight train. You'll know, okay? C: No one's gonna miss it. The summary **_**does**_** still fit this story, I promise :)**

**Annnnnnd thank you to all the people who bothered to review, you guys made my week whether you know it or not. I'd post them like normal, but I'm not feeling the best and just want to get this undated XP Please forgive me!**

**And please do let me know what you think about where this is going, okay? A few of you reminded me of some uh, details I left out. Ah ha ha….**

**One more thing, I'm going to have a HichiIchi/ShiroIchi story coming out within a week or so. If anyone likes the pairing or just wants to let me know if it's awful or not, omg, I would appreciate it :D**


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Starcross'd

Warnings: Violence, gore, heavy sexual content.

Rating: M

**.**

**Chapter Five**

**.**

Sprawled across his bed, Ichigo glared at the ceiling of his temporary Seireitei residence.

He couldn't sleep. And he had no idea if that was because he was too pissed off or if he was afraid of what waited for him if he did.

The dreams wouldn't stop. They were more frequent than ever, teasing him with things that were out of his reach. The face that had always been nothing more than a vague impression was perfectly clear in his mind's eye, filled with silver eyes so expressive he didn't need words to tell what was going on behind them.

He twisted his head to the side, turning his irritated stare onto the letter he'd addressed to his mother.

He'd ghosted over the details of Grimmjow's rapid courtship with a lady named Inoue Orihime, leaving out the fact that she also seemed to be the infamous and very literal girl of his dreams. He wanted to tear it into scraps and toss it in the fire.

Ichigo smoothed a hand over his face, once again trying to sort out what he was feeling.

None of it should be possible. Not at all. But if it was, then how the hell had it all gotten so screwed up? If she was supposed to be his than how had she ended up with his cousin? Not for the first time, he wondered if he'd just imagined the entire thing and was losing his mind.

What was this?

Did she _want_ to marry Grimm? She seemed to be taking his advances seriously enough.

But why? Grimm didn't even have a tendency toward gentler emotion. _At all._ Ichigo knew he didn't. So how was someone as obviously innocent as she was actually considering his offer?

He snarled, smashing the heel of his hand into the space between his eyes where the majority of his tension rested and trying to scrub it away.

He was such a bastard for even thinking things like that.

Grimm was his cousin. Second cousin maybe, but still fucking blood and the closet thing he had to a brother. So why did Ichigo wish the whole thing with Inoue Orihime would blow up in the blue bastard's face?

The tightness in his gut was making him nauseous.

Light was already creeping in the windows, so he gave up on sleep and sat up, tossing aside the coverings.

But he knew what Grimm was like. He couldn't actually have honorable intentions. Most likely it was just a ploy to get the girl into bed with him— Ichigo paused, closing his eyes, because he'd kill him. He'd really have to beat him senseless if that was all it was.

_Orihime_.

He rolled the name around in his head.

It wasn't like she knew or trusted him, and after what he'd done, what he'd _offered_, why would she?

Of course she wouldn't.

Any chance for that had ended before it'd begun. Ichigo didn't want to push himself off on her either. He must seem half out of his mind as it was. The best he could hope was to keep an eye on her from the side. Make sure his cousin wasn't playing games. Which… Well, Ichigo wouldn't bet money on Grimmjow's good character.

He'd watch her. Keep her safe. As long as that was the case, he could live with whomever she chose to marry. It wasn't like he'd intended to propose for himself anyway, and her life wouldn't just stop so that he didn't have to deal with her inevitable marriage.

His stay in the city could be stretched a few days, but after that, he'd be forced to return home. So for now, the best he could do would be to maintain a proper distance and look after Inoue Orihime from afar.

-o-

Orihime laughed, watching Shinji cajole Hiyori into another fit of rage. Beside her, Tatsuki and Uryu wore matching expressions of stunned disgust. The rest of the visored took the scene in with varying degrees of calm indifference as their leader made childish faces and ducked the furious reprisal.

If they had been fighting with any seriousness, she might have been distressed, but she knew it was all in fun. Shinji always prodded and harassed any of his members if they refused to obey. It was simply the way he chose to work.

Orihime thought it brilliant strategy.

Even if Hiyori had snubbed the offer to dance, she was dancing with him now, whether she realized it or not.

She laughed again, and earned the attention of the man beside her.

Uryu gave a polite but puzzled smile. "I would've thought a lady to frown on violence."

Orihime laughed again as Shinji went down and his blonde comrade seized the advantage. "I don't like violence, but they aren't really fighting if they both enjoy it, are they?"

Uryu turned back, seeming thoughtful as he looked the pair over again. He gave a soft snort. "I suppose not. You're quite observant, Lady Inoue. Almost intuitive."

She blinked.

"Is that a good thing?"

"I don't know. You only seem to pick up on kinder emotions, not a person's ill intent." He shrugged.

Beside him, Tatsuki made an affirmative noise.

Orihime looked between them. "Who would want to harm me?"

Uryu's brows shot into his hair line and he looked to Tatsuki for confirmation. "She can't truly be that naïve?"

"Oh yes, she can. Are we finished, Orihime? Your stepmother will be wondering what happened to us, we should leave soon."

"Oh, but I wanted to dance…" She frowned.

Truth be told, she knew they had already stayed too long.

It was strange, but when they'd reached Yoruichi's studio, they'd been informed that the lady wasn't home and that Orihime wasn't in the log for a lesson. That left Orihime to wonder if her stunts the previous Saturday had forced Yoruichi to break association with her.

Orihime wouldn't have been surprised. She'd behaved appallingly after all. Throwing drinks on members of the Court, running in public, being alone with a man in his home. Even her beloved instructress must have her limits.

She would have to tell Ainoko she'd lost her lessons with Lady Shihōin. It was a conversation she wasn't looking forward to.

"I could dance with you."

Orihime looked up into Uryu's face but his gaze was elsewhere. She had no idea he knew how to dance.

"Really? You wouldn't mind?"

Tatsuki perked up beside him. "Don't even think about it. Anyone could see you. The law offices…" She trailed off when Orihime turned a hopeful gaze her way. Tatsuki sighed, casting a quick glance around. "I guess we are a ways from the crowds. But just one dance, Orihime, then we have to leave."

Orihime removed her shawl and bag, handing them over as she beamed. "Ah! I won't be long, Tatsuki-chan." Then she engulfed her in a surprise hug before following after Uryu.

"What kind of dance did you have in mind? Formal? Or something more…" Uryu gestured toward Shinji and Hiyori.

Orihime paused and placed a finger on her lips. "I never learned any of the formal dances besides what my brother taught me. We ran out of time. And I suppose I chased away the woman that was to teach me."

She lifted a hand to rub the back of her head and only remembered not to touch it at the last second. Orihime finally mastered the kohl powder, and her hair was a shining black mass of curls, pulled high to keep it away from her clothing. She felt so liberated not to be constrained by a hood or wig, she didn't even mind that she couldn't touch it.

Uryu shifted, color dusting his cheeks. She was fixing to touch his forehead to check for a fever when he spoke.

"I haven't used them since my childhood, but I know the major forms. I could show you if you'd like?"

Tatsuki snorted behind her.

She almost bounced in her excitement, clapping. "Oh, do you mind? But… I should warn you, you might have to start from the beginning."

She gave him a hopeful smile.

He cleared his throat, the light color returning to his face. "I don't mind."

-o-

Shock was the first emotion Ichigo could safely identify. And that was followed swiftly by confusion and maybe a touch of fascination. The next was definitely somewhere between amusement and irritation.

Lady Inoue Orihime was dancing on the street.

Or not _precisely_ the street. It was a side alley tucked into the winding back passage that led from the Courts of Common Law to the main thoroughfare, but it was damn near the street.

Since the traffic that frequented the market district was thick, it was impossible to maneuver carriages safely around pedestrians. So he'd been cutting through the back way to catch a ride when he'd spotted a figure that looked familiar.

Then with a jolt of something that sounded like warning bells in his head, he realized who he was seeing.

The hair was different, almost black, and he frowned for a moment.

It wasn't uncommon for women to color their natural shade, but that was usually to blend into society _better_. He couldn't imagine why a girl would bother with such a thing and then go out to be seen with the very people she was attempting to disassociate herself.

It made as little sense as a guardian that let his daughter travel around with whatever company she happened across. She was laughing, twisting circles to the otherworldly music the visored were famous for, and doing a surprisingly good job of keeping up. Almost like she'd done it a thousand times before.

To think, if his unreliable messenger had actually shown to deliver his reports, he would've missed it.

He eased closer to the group.

It consisted mostly of visored or other vagrants, but there were some, like him, that had been caught up while passing. When he made it to the front of the circle, Ichigo stopped, watching as she spun, skirts flaring out only to stumble and miss her step when her sight landed on him.

She froze, silver eyes large and lips parted to take a sharp breath. Her hair finished its path and fell in a glossy tumble around her shoulders where it'd come loose.

Breathing heavy, she stared back at him.

He arched a brow, trying to convey with his gaze alone the level of irritation he felt at how recklessly she treated her own safety. First with Yoruichi, and now this. Didn't she know how desperate and dangerous a place the streets could become?

Orihime swallowed, straightening and trying to gather her bearings.

Lord Kurosaki stood in front of her, amber eyes heated and intense under a formidable scowl. And his hair was even more vivid in the light of day, shining like a fiery halo. She couldn't turn away. He looked like a creature of divine retribution. But between a guardian or a fallen angel, she couldn't decide.

That attractiveness certainly held a sensual edge that fell at odds with his stern demeanor.

How long had he been watching her?

She tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Tatsuki attached herself to Orihime's side and she could feel her maid and friend glower up at the imposing lord, hissing something in her ear about one dance turning to five.

Orihime detached herself, angling for dignity. "I-I know him," she whispered to her questioning look.

Tatsuki didn't say anything further as Orihime stepped forward, eyes kept low as she tried her best to be humble and polite. If he hadn't planned on telling her guardians about her behavior thus far, she could be certain he would now, and she didn't wish to make the situation worse by irritating him further.

"Lord Kurosaki, I…" She groped for an explanation, but needn't have bothered.

The lord took in the silent, thinning crowd behind her while she floundered for an excuse. "A back alley isn't a safe place for a lady."

At Tatsuki's indignant growl, he glanced back, eyes narrowing before turning his heavy gaze onto Orihime again. He seemed to be struggling to keep his words polite and even.

"With a maid or not."

Orihime was sure it was all Tatsuki could do to remain silent to that comment. But her maid's skills would ensure her dismissal if Ainoko ever discovered them, so she wisely said nothing.

Orihime bit her lip, twisting fingers together to keep from making placating gestures. "Thank you. For… For your trouble. It was kind of you to… to bring that to our attention. We'll go straight home—"

"I'll walk you."

Orihime gaped. "That's… That's not necessary, I know the way back."

There was a slight twisting to his lips that she thought might be amusement at her distress. "It would be deplorable behavior for a man to leave a lady alone to be mugged on the street. Or worse." He lowered his head in an attempt to capture her gaze that seemed to be skittering anywhere that wasn't his face. "Don't you think?"

The small smirk was more pronounced now, and it was accompanied by a sincere warmth that caused her heart to skip. Orihime nodded, agreeing before she realized what she'd done.

"Alright then."

He held out his arm, and her fingers trembled as she placed them in the crook, flushing at the warmth she could feel beneath the sleeve. Orihime twisted to look behind her, although whether it was to wish farewell or beg for help, she didn't know.

Lord Kurosaki followed her gaze, taking in each figure behind them one by one, as if weighing them individually. The visored stared back, and Shinji caught her eyes, his head jerking toward the Lord beside her in significant inquiry.

Orihime's eyes widened as she decoded the message.

He was asking if she wanted them to do violence.

Almost franticly, but as faintly as possible, she shook her head, hoping he understood as Tatsuki gathered her things and followed behind them from the alleyway.

When the visored didn't follow them, she sighed, but her heart still hadn't slowed as they stepped onto the main street, and he peered down at her.

"You know them."

It wasn't a question.

She didn't look up to see his expression, instead keeping her face lowered as she'd been taught. Her lower lip was beginning to sting under the worrying of teeth, but there was nothing she could say that wasn't either incriminating or a lie, so she said nothing.

Ichigo sighed.

This wasn't going as well as he'd hoped.

"I don't actually bite, you know."

That seemed to get a reaction.

Silver eyes flashed up, blinking. "Why would you bite?"

"I…" He shook his head, brow furrowing. "It's just an expression." He glanced back toward the alley and then raised an eyebrow at the girl beside him. "You don't get out much, do you?"

Her eyes fell back to the flagstone walkway.

It seemed surprising given the places he'd found her, but she was far too naïve to have much worldly knowledge. When she'd faced him at his home, he'd mistaken it for an act, because he'd been sure no one could be that inexperienced, but now… He was starting to understand.

She was gentle and innocent. Like something that would shatter under a strong breeze. Something to be valued and sheltered. And she was completely wrong for his cousin.

He opened his mouth, intent on asking her why she'd chosen Grimmjow, when he noticed a blue sparkle from below her neck.

He bent closer, curious—

Something smacked him in the back of the head.

"Don't look down Orihime's dress, pervert!" her maid snapped.

His eyes went wide and he thoughtlessly reached up to touch the quickly forming lump. "Wha—_No_. That's not what I was doing," he growled, glaring at the maid. With a calming breath, he turned back to the lady, trying not to speak from between his teeth. "I was going to ask who gave you that necklace."

"Sure you were," the maid muttered.

He ignored her. Loudly.

"Necklace?" Inoue's delicate brow furrowed. "Oh, my hairpins?"

He looked away as she pulled them from the line of her breasts, still mentally cursing her violent help, and cautiously turned back when she held them up.

A pair of small, blue, six-petal flowers gleamed at him in the dying sunlight.

Ichigo stopped walking, lifting a hand to let them rest in his palm.

"Why do you ask?"

He started at her voice, meeting her eyes and letting her take them back. As she'd said, they were hairpins, clipped onto a fine silver chain. But it was the style he found unusual.

"They look like something I've seen before."

He straightened and continued on their path, but his attention stayed on the ground.

Where could she have gotten such a thing? Grimmjow? He couldn't imagine his cousin giving a woman jewelry, never mind something sentimental.

"Lord Kurosaki?"

"Ichigo."

"I'm sorry?"

He glanced down. "My name. You can call me Ichigo. We've gone a ways passed formality."

"Kurosaki…kun." She blushed prettily, heat creeping down her slender, white throat. "What did you mean? You said they look like something you've seen."

There was a twinge of disappointment that she compromised on his name, but it still sent a treacherous warmth spreading through his chest that she didn't outright refuse him either.

"My family crest. It has a flower that looks similar. Six petals that taper into points. Blue." Ichigo shrugged. "It's probably not that shocking that there would be something similar somewhere. Where'd you get it?"

It was stupid. _Masochistic_. He didn't want to hear it, didn't want to know, but he was prying anyway, looking for that bit of confirmation that would sting like a knife wound.

There was no coincidence. It had to have come from his cousin. The penalty for a jeweler imitating a family crest was imprisonment. Death if he were charged with forgery. The Kurosaki line had been the Royal Family until they'd failed to produce an heir. It had to have been made by or for someone in his line, unless the king himself had it commissioned, which seemed unlikely.

Beside him, Orihime fingered the blue stones on the chain.

"My brother gave them to me. I'm sorry, but I'm not certain where he obtained them."

Ichigo's frown deepened. He didn't know if he'd imagined the rawness in her voice.

Was it possible she was a distant relative? If it were true, maybe it'd be enough to keep Grimmjow from moving forward.

He made a note to check.

They turned up the adjoining path to her home, and Ichigo prepared to leave her on the step, only for the door to open before he'd spoken.

"Orihime, where on earth have you been? Do you know the hour, you selfish child? I think you live to cause me grief. Look at—"

The woman on the threshold stopped at the sight of him.

Her hair was jet black, frame rail thin, and she was clothed from toe to neck in layers of expensive, olive-colored taffeta. The harsh look she'd worn while speaking to her daughter wavered between several different emotions before attempting to settle on pleasantly surprised.

"Y-Your lordship, I… What a nice… What brings…" She cast Orihime a disgruntled glance, and he could see her mind working to ferret out the details of his sudden presence. "I hope you haven't been causing his lordship any difficulties. I apologize for my stepdaughter."

Orihime's eyes flicked toward him, no doubt waiting for him to list out her every transgression.

He almost snorted. She seemed determined to think the worst of him.

Ichigo turned and addressed the fawning woman with a tailored formality he usually reserved for Court. Here was yet another guardian that was obviously inept. "She hasn't been a difficulty. If anything, I've kept her, please forgive me." He glanced at her stunned face from under his lashes. "She makes stimulating conversation. I lost track of time."

Orihime turned scarlet.

Her guardian seemed uncertain how to proceed in the face of such a high ranking nobleman breeching protocol, and he found himself disinclined to alleviate her discomfort.

"Yes. Well. Come along, Orihime. You've taken up enough of Lord…" The woman glanced at Ichigo.

He was still studying Orihime. "Kurosaki."

The woman blinked, startled into silence.

Orihime gave a polite bow, and when she peeked up, there was a small smile of gratitude on her lips, which he returned. She passed by, but lingered in the entryway behind her stepmother.

Her guardian came free of her trance, a shrewd gaze narrowed between them and a frown pulling her face down. "Yes. Lord Kurosaki. It was a pleasure making your acquaintanceship, but I'm afraid we must be brief. A prior engagement with Lady Matsumoto, so please excuse us."

"You're attending?"

His eyes went back to Orihime's.

Rangiku sent him invitations as well, even though he'd long since stopped frequenting her embarrassing, public functions. She always managed to force him into some perverse situation. The last time he'd attempted one, she'd locked them both in a closet and lost her gown.

The woman's frown pulled deeper. "…Yes. And yourself, milord? I'm certain someone of your standing has also received an invitation."

He nodded but he was still looking behind her. "I'll be there."

-o-

Orihime felt the heat of the burning, amber gaze from across the crowded ballroom as Grimmjow escorted her from the floor, but didn't have the first notion of what to do bout it.

It'd been that way for over an hour since she'd first arrived and spotted him among the guests.

Occasionally some other lord or mother would stop to make conversation, but he always managed to send them on their way. He didn't approach her however.

The heavy weight of his scrutiny made her so nervous, Orihime missed several phases of the dance she was supposed to be performing. Thankfully, her partner was just as attention deficient as she was, and hadn't noticed her missteps. He _had_ seemed to notice their onlooker.

Grimmjow kept shooting probing looks across the hall toward the orange-haired lord.

She could hardly blame his wariness.

Orihime wasn't certain what to make of the strange connection herself.

The entire afternoon as they'd prepared to leave, Ainoko had continued a stream of questions over her earlier appearance with the future duke. She even allowed Orihime to wear the stunning navy gown she liked so much, which puzzled her until she realized Ainoko was attempting to soften her to her inquiries.

The questioning lasted through the carriage ride to the ball. Orihime divulged no new information, but she could feel her stepmother's suspicions. And Sorame, although he hadn't uttered a word, had also seemed especially attentive.

Orihime supposed the situation was strange, but couldn't put her finger on the reason.

It felt as if she and the lord were sharing some deep secret, only she too, didn't know what it was.

With a final glance across the room, Grimmjow cursed.

Her brother used the same word once before, but never laced with such venom. Although there was also a hint of resignation.

He excused himself. At least, she assumed that was the muttered comment he'd left her with.

Orihime watched with surprise as he angled a straight path toward the stiffening Karakura lord, her stomach twisting knots when they exited onto a balcony.

"My, my," came a musical voice from behind her. "You seem to be quite the point of interest."

Orihime turned and her eyes widened, a startled breath escaping her lungs.

-o-

Grimmjow approached like a blue storm sweeping from the other side of the room.

Ichigo let out a breath, not quite believing it'd taken him so long. He'd only sat there glaring for most of the night.

He thought Grimmjow had shown an amazing amount of restraint.

Keeping his cousin's temper in mind, he let himself out to the balcony, knowing Grimmjow would follow. The cool night air kept it free of other revelers, and he waited, somewhat impatient for Grimm to stomp into sight.

It didn't take long.

"What the fuck are ya playin' at, Kurosaki?"

Grimmjow cornered him, bearing down with an extra three or four inches of height. He didn't elaborate, but he didn't really need to either. Ichigo had his own questions to ask first.

"What are you doing with that girl? Courting? That's bullshit and we both know it."

Grimmjow stopped, a flicker of surprise surfaced that was quickly covered. He watched Ichigo warily. "Why do you care about it?"

Ichigo's fists clenched and he saw blue eyes mark the gesture.

Grimmjow had never been afraid of a fight, but he didn't make any further aggressive moves. Ichigo was certain if Grimmjow were serious about Orihime, he would've fought harder.

Instead, Ichigo was the one ready to fight.

"What do you care?" he repeated, this time with a more rational speculation. "Ya like 'er or somethin'?"

Ichigo said nothing.

Grimmjow's cautious probing turned into a wide grin. "Ya do! Shit, Kurosaki. I didn't even know ya knew 'er."

Ichigo couldn't hold that mocking leer. He turned, feeling his face flush and willing it away. "She…"

He swiped a hand into his hair and took a deep breath then released it. He could hardly force the words out.

"It's _her_."

He didn't meet Grimmjow's eyes. Instead he glared at the ground and waited for the inevitable humiliating moment when his cousin figured out what he was saying.

"Wait… Wait..." Grimmjow shuffled closer, seeming far too thrilled for Ichigo's comfort. "Her? As in _her_? The dream girl?" Another moment. "Yer outta yer fuckin' mind."

Ichigo growled, twisting a fist into Grimmjow's jacket. "Would I make something like this up, bastard?"

There was a pause. Ichigo wanted to hit him.

"Hn. Guess not. Still. Ya really know how ta fuck with a guy's plans."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes. "And what plans were those?"

"Don' matter now, does it?"

"_Grimmjow_."

He flicked Ichigo's grip away. "Save it. Ya don't scare me."

Ichigo clicked his tongue as his cousin turned away. But it was pointless, Grimmjow wouldn't tell him if he didn't want to tell him.

"Well, shit…" He seemed thoughtful. A minute later, his blue head disappeared back inside. Ignoring Ichigo as if he weren't even there.

Ichigo leaned back into the plaster railing, shaking his head at his cousin's frustrating antics.

After another moment, he followed, wondering what he would do now that his path to Orihime had been so easily cleared.

-o-

Orihime stared.

It was rude. She knew she should turn her eyes down, but she couldn't.

The man standing before her was the very image of her brother.

Tears stung behind her eyes and there was a sudden, sharp pain of longing in her breast. "I…"

"Hm?" Slender, dark brows rose over an equally dark eyes, but he seemed amused as he took her arm and steadied Orihime on her feet. "My dear, it was only a jest. No need to stain a pretty face with tears."

She shook her head, trying to will away the embarrassing, emotional outburst.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." Sniffing, she looked back up, taking in his features again and giving her best apologetic smile, biting her lip. "No… That's not true. I do know. You look like someone I knew."

Understanding lit his features.

"I see. Well, then, allow me to make it up to you. My name is Tsukishima Shūkurō."

He bowed, offering his arm for a dance and another ache filled her. If she squinted her eyes, she could almost imagine she was looking at her brother.

Was it true that people could be reborn into new lives? She'd heard the speculation. But no, that was silly. This man was around her brother's age, not young enough for something like that.

Orihime took his arm and allowed him to lead her to the edge of the main floor. "Inoue Orihime."

"Not Inoue as in Sora Inoue?"

She nodded as he pulled her around to face him. It wasn't unusual that he'd heard of her brother. He'd been quite famous after all.

Tsukishima was a skilled dancer. Even Orihime with her lack of lesson was swept up so easily, one would hardly know she hadn't been dancing all her life.

"You seem to have my cousins quite smitten with you."

Her brow furrowed. "Cousins?"

He nodded to far side of the hall where Lord Kurosaki and Jaegerjaquez-kun had disappeared. As understanding dawned, she faltered, but under the influence of his arms, he steered her back into place, saving the turn.

"Yes, Ichigo and Grimmjow are family. Didn't you know?"

She shook her head, letting the weight of the statement sink in with growing unease.

Had she inadvertently caused a rift between them?

Tsukishima laughed, the sound easy, and bringing her attention back to him. "What a brilliant story it will make at the next family gathering."

Orihime didn't want to be a family joke, but she couldn't help be amazed by the rest of his statement. "You like stories?"

"My dear, I _adore_ stories. And life itself is the grandest of them all."

He gave her another smile.

Warmth gathered in her breast. Yet another similarity to her dear departed Sora.

They continued to dance and Orihime surprised herself by breaking etiquette and asking for another. He complied, and even seemed amused by her antics before, at last, excusing himself. She tried to keep him in sight, but he slipped away, leaving her alone until Rangiku spotted her and swept down like a mater goose, folding her in an embrace.

"Orihime! It's been ages."

"R-Rangiku-chan, I can't breathe!"

"Serves you right, silly girl. I saw you with those scores of young men panting after you."

Her host wavered on her feet, tipsy, as Orihime tried to support her. "Maybe you should sit."

"Nonsense. After everyone else got their chance to dance with you? Ha…"

Her face flamed, and she glanced around, looking for her stepmother. Orihime tended to be punished for such displays, whether it was her fault or not, but she wasn't certain how to extricate herself.

"We…We can't dance together, Rangiku-chan, we're both female. Ran-Ran… Ah!" They nearly went down in a heap before she righted them.

The woman clasped her shoulders, leading out toward the dance floor with a surprising grip for someone in the throes of intoxication. "Then we'll set a trend, darling."

-o-

Sorame stood in the parlor that connected to the main hall, frozen in outrage.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez not only had the gall to approached him publicly about their agreement, but also closed the door on their contract, ending Sorame's carefully laid plans to acquire Orihime's fortune without so much as an explanation.

He didn't move until the door opened and his wife slipped inside.

"I saw our parti leaving through the front entrance with nary a word to our Orihime in farewell."

Goddamn it. He didn't need his wife's nagging on top of everything else.

Sorame didn't turn lest she see the scorn in his eyes. "He is withdrawing from our agreement."

Ainoko gasped. It was discreet, but he could hear the inhale she made that would launch her into a tirade on his failures. "Impossible!" she hissed, closing in from behind. "What will we do about Orihime now? Need I remind you, the gap to her coming of age is closing quickly? You did threaten him with the law should he slanderously make false accusations regarding Orihime's upbringing?"

"Of course, I did," he snapped. "But he'll be far too taxed trying to come up with a new scheme to solve his own difficulties to worry about that. A message to his creditors with details on his newest haunts will assure that."

Ainoko paced, hands working as she spoke. "This is awful. We are closer to the poor house with every day that passes. And that Kurosaki lord has been pursuing Orihime like a bloodhound. I guarantee you if he marries her we won't get a sniff of that money. We shall be forced to revert to your meager salary and it will not afford all the things to which we've grown attached—"

His restraint broke.

He closed his hands around his wife's throat, squeezing off her air supply until her eyes bugged and she stopped railing at him.

Thank blessed silence.

"_Shut… up."_

An icy chuckle echoed through the room. "What's this? Please, don't let me interrupt this lovely, little domestic scene."

Sorame loosed his wife, turning to lock his sights on their intruder.

A thin man with shoulder-length, black hair and dark eyes stepped forward from the shadows. A small yet cruel smile played at his lips, and Sorame instantly distrusted it.

His sight narrowed. "Who the devil are you?"

"That is not nearly as important a question as what you should be asking." The man's smile widened. "Which is, how much did I overhear?"

Sorame felt ice leak into his veins as Ainoko stiffened beside him. She did, however, remain silent.

He glared. "The question answers itself, doesn't it?"

The man spread his hands, another smile ghosting across his mouth. "I suppose it does, but," he held up a finger, "I also have a solution to this problem of yours that you should find agreeable. Well… more agreeable than the workhouses."

Sorame glanced down to meet Ainoko's cautious gaze then looked back to the intruder.

"I'm listening."

**A/N**

**Sorry for the late chapter D: I caught a cold or something yucky and it pushed updates back. **

**A huge thanks to all the people left buckets of encouragement in the form of a review. I can't tell you guys how much it helps. Seriously. So thank you C:**

**Lots of stuff happening this chapter, so I hope you paid attention XP**

**Review? :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Starcross'd

Warnings: Violence, gore, heavy sexual content.

Rating: M

Authorial Notice:

_**Huge, huge, huge note**__._ I keep screwing up. Omgosh, that was Tsukishima at the end of the last chap there, and like a tard I made a reference to brown hair, when yes, Tsuki has black. Sorry, you guys. My screw up. There is another person that you all suspected that has yet to appear though, so you can still be excited, because he'll still be here. And he will be that lovable mix of creepy/sexy we all know and love ^^

Ah, I'm sorry I'm so dumb D:

**.**

**Chapter Six**

**.**

Orihime sat in bed and stared at the note in her hands.

It was something Grimmjow had given her before he'd gone the night before. A small, folded leaf of paper that looked as if it'd been hastily torn from a book.

The messy scrawl inside was cryptic, hinting that he was returning to his home city of Karakura, and that he would no longer be calling on her. No reason was given, but it didn't need to be. It obviously had something to do with Lord Kurosaki.

Orihime's shoulders sank.

There was a knock on the door. She stuffed the note under her pillow and jerked her arms back as it opened.

Her stepmother emerged. "You're still abed at this hour…? Really, Orihime. Such a lazy thing. Get up, quickly. You have a caller."

"I do?"

"Yes, now get up and get dressed! Do not keep him waiting."

Who could be calling on her? With Grimmjow gone, there was only one "him" Orihime could think of with an interest in seeing her.

Lord Kurosaki.

Kurosaki-kun, she amended.

Nerves fizzled through her belly and she slipped from the bed without further prompting. Removing her nightshift, she allowed the maid to drop a gown over her head and brush out long, auburn strands.

"There's no time to color. Where is your wig?"

Orihime's eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. "I… I left it with Lady Shihōin."

"Why on earth would you do that, child? Now, what shall you use to cover your head?" Her stepmother's exasperated gaze pierced her before it took on a calculating quality. "I suppose… You might be allowed to forgo it. But only this once," she warned, shooing Orihime toward the door. "No, no, wait. Tie it back at least."

Hastily obeying with the maid's help, Orihime pinned her hair back with her clips, finished preparing and headed down the stairs. It felt as if an entire flock of doves had taken flight in her chest.

She paused, gathering a breath at the door to the sitting room before pushing it open.

Sorame sat in one of the looming wing backed chairs in front of the fire, but it was the man opposite him that captured her attention. The man stood when she entered, a smile angling his lips as he took in her form.

"Ah, Orihime." Sorame rose and motioned toward their guest. "You've met Tsukishima-san."

Orihime faltered, but managed a sincere smile.

Tsukishima stepped forward smoothly and grasped her fingers, bringing them to his mouth. "My dear. It's lovely to see you again."

"Tsukishima-kun." She shook her head to clear it. "Yes, it is."

Sorame gave an indulgent smile to both of them then nodded at Tsukishima. "Well, given the nature of the call, I think I might give you a few minutes alone."

The nature of the call…?

Orihime's brow furrowed as her stepfather exited the room, but left the double doors open wide.

"Hn. Ruining my surprise like that. Your uncle is evil."

Although there was no heat in the words, she felt a string of discomfort pull, unraveling her good cheer. She was glad to see him again. Orihime had been almost afraid she might've frightened him away with her forwardness the night before, but something about his visit seemed out of place.

"Surprise?" she prompted.

He turned his face from the door down to look at her. "Yes, I'm returning to Karakura. Actually, all the family is to be returning. It happens about once a year or so." A smile, "Our great patriarch likes to keep us firmly under toe."

"Oh."

_Oh_.

She relaxed. That was why Grimmjow had gone. She hadn't run him off and ruined his relationship with his cousin— _One_ of his cousins. She tried to see some of the family resemblance in Tsukishima's face between the Karakura lord or even with Grimmjow, but couldn't find it.

"Will you be back before the end of the season?"

She didn't want to think about all the balls at which she'd miss the opportunity to dance with him. Perhaps it was a selfish thing though. It did cause a pebble of guilt to form, using him that way.

"I'm afraid not. There are issues in the province that must be dealt with and discussed. As the ruling family of that area, duty is always paramount. Even, apparently, when one doesn't receive much… duty to speak of." Another enigmatic smile. "But that's why I'm here. I'd like you to come with me, dearling."

"I… Come with you? But why?"

It was so sudden. She couldn't. It would be impossible, even if she wanted it, which she wasn't certain she did.

"I enjoy your company. Does there need to be another reason beyond that? And you are looking for a husband. I want you to consider myself for the position."

He gave a half bow, a humble gesture that didn't quite reach his eyes. He did seem to poke fun at conventional things often. After being bound by convention most of her life, Orihime found the change almost revitalizing.

It _was_ shock to be asked so bluntly, but she wanted to give him a fair chance, so she took a moment to consider the possibility.

He resembled her brother. That would be a strange quality in a husband. But he also loved books. They had that in common. And he didn't seem terribly serious, a welcome change from her guardians. He might not even force her to cover her hair if the amused glances he kept giving it were any indication. His smile was pleasant enough, and he'd been kind to her in their short acquaintance. And she had a feeling he would indulge her more… eccentric tendencies.

But could she love him?

It was too soon to tell.

Orihime bit her lip.

"That face, I'm not expecting a positive answer. But you don't need to give it right away. I still have until the day after tomorrow. If you do come, however, I can show you our ancestral home. It's older than the palace of Pure Souls, littered with history and all that boring stuff I'm certain you would love."

That did sound fascinating…

"Think on it."

-o-

A hand nudged her shoulder, shaking her from sleep. "Orihime, wake up. There's been an accident. Ainoko fell down the stairs."

Orihime blinked her eyes open, reaching up to rub at them. She sat forward and struggled to make sense of the words. Something about an accident— She pulled in a sharp breath as the meaning registered.

"Oh, no…"

Flinging back the covers, she bounded from the bed. Tatsuki had a robe waiting and wrapped it around her. She tied it as they went.

Was Ainoko injured? Hurt? In pain?

Orihime took the marble stairs at breakneck speed, hearing Tatsuki's curses behind her every time her feet slid over the slick surface. She slowed. They didn't need another accident, and she was clumsy on her best days.

A man's voice drifted from the far hall, one she'd never heard before, and she turned to meet Tatsuki's eyes. By her maid's puzzled frown, it was clear she didn't know who it was either.

Orihime continued forward, pushing open the parlor door a crack to find her stepmother reclining on a couch, clutching her hip.

Seeing a man at Ainoko's side, she pushed the door open fully. "Oka-san? What happened?"

The man stopped speaking when she appeared, and turned to scrutinize. Orihime shivered under his gaze.

His eyes were gold, but not a warm or comforting shade. Cold and assessing, they chilled her and she stopped as if someone had jerked her strings. A wild mass of dark, blue hair tangled over his scalp. Maybe he might've appeared attractive if he'd cared for himself, but any appeal he had was lost in the unnerving was he seemed to assess her. Not as a person, but as a thing. Like he was dissecting her, picking her apart without regard to her humanity.

Everything about the man frightened her.

She wanted him to leave.

"Orihime, this is Kurotsuchi-sensei. He is a renowned physician. Do not gawk, child."

Orihime snapped from her stupor, face flushing as she closed the distance to her stepmother. Whatever she felt looking at the man, it was no excuse to be rude, and there were other things that needed her attention.

Ainoko looked pained, face pinched and drawn tight.

"Are you hurting?"

Ainoko lifted her chin, fixing Orihime with icy judgment. "I was so distracted over the nature of this secret you've been keeping about Lord Kurosaki, I tripped and fell down the stairs."

Orihime pulled back, eyes wide, shaking her head. The statement caught her like an arrow snagging her stomach. She _knew_ how much Ainoko worried over social matters.

Pressing a hand to her mouth, she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Ainoko turned her head away. "It's a miracle I wasn't further injured. I always knew you would be the death of me."

The doctor began putting his things away into a thick, leather satchel, nodding without looking up. "As it is, it's quite fortunate you didn't break a bone. Almost impossible. If I believed in such ridiculous words. Can't. Impossible. _Unattainable_. All inane…" He remembered his audience. "You never would've walked again. Arthritics joints are cumbersome as it is."

Orihime would have thought him to be muttering to himself if he hadn't addressed Ainoko directly. Ainoko buried her face in her hand and suppressed a delicate shudder at the possibility of such a future.

"Yes, almost impossible," he continued.

He bared his teeth in what Orihime thought was an attempt at a smile, and she tensed.

Ainoko frowned and gave a different type of shudder. "You may collect your fees from my husband. He is in the study."

His smile widened, and Orihime was reminded of wolves with bloody jowls and bleached bones in the wilderness. The man was mad. Surely.

When he turned to leave, Ainoko cleared her throat. "Doctor, my _treatment_. I don't believe we discussed it."

He stopped with a sneer, pausing before the door. "There is no known cure for arthritis, woman. Did I not just say as much?" He tilted his head, sharing a keen look with Ainoko before he rolled his yellow eyes. "The mineral hot springs of Karakura are almost as miraculous as your tumble down the steps. Perhaps daily emersion would be of some benefit," he snapped.

Ainoko's lips were pressed as she watched the door close behind the physician.

Karakura…? Had she heard him right?

Orihime stared after the man, but with different suspicions. What were the chances of her stepmother's cure being found in the same city she'd just been asked to visit by Tsukishima-kun?

"As sizable a donation as the man requires for that appalling _institute_ of his…" Realizing she was speaking her thoughts aloud, Ainoko clipped them short, rubbing her leg with a grimace.

Orihime frowned. "Are you in a great deal of pain?"

As if the question didn't warrant an answer, Ainoko sniffed. "I am accustomed to dealing with pain on a constant basis. Enduring it with grace is my daily struggle."

"I think we should spend the season in Karakura as Kurotsuchi-sensei said."

Ainoko raised a brow. "I'm surprised you would be so generous, after the difficulties you've been giving your father and I since your birthday."

Orihime shook her head. "I just want you to be well," she murmured.

"I will speak to Sorame."

Orihime left the room before they found something else to disagree over.

Tatsuki was waiting for her in the hallway, but Orihime stopped by the steps before continuing up.

"Did… Did anyone see my stepmother fall?"

"No, I don't think so. She'd picked herself up by the time I heard about it."

Orihime nodded, walking back to her room to dress for the day.

She was being backed into a corner. She suddenly felt certain of it, but even so, she was powerless to free herself or stop it.

-o-

The journey to the province of Karakura wasn't as long as she'd imagined. The roads were well kept and it was a pleasant drive. The land surrounding the city itself was beautiful and it was hard to imagine that such a serene countryside had seen the worst of the fighting during the wars. But if history was to be believed, it had been the starting point. The place where the vampire had fallen.

Orihime craned her neck when the buildings began rising into view.

Ainoko fell asleep early, so there was no one to tell her to keep her head inside the vehicle as they approached, and she gasped at the size of it. She knew it had once been the empire's capitol, but it was still so big.

And white…

No. Not white, she realized as they passed, but pale stone. Some had ribbons of soft yellows and grays, and even veins of sparkling quartz. It was breath-taking.

Beside her Ainoko stirred, and she pulled back, but kept her attention focused outside.

There were fountains, statues, chalk murals. Orihime saw one with the Duke's emblem and a depiction of a handsome looking man with dark features and a strong jaw. Kurosaki-kun's father…? She could see a resemblance in the nose and heavy brow.

It might've just been the artist, but there was a twinkle in his eyes she liked right away. She couldn't help but smile.

The driver located the house her stepfather rented with ease.

Sorame hadn't been able to come with them, but he'd sorted out the details before they left, and when they arrived, Tsukishima was waiting to whisk her out on a tour of the city.

They saw the springs her stepmother would need, the shopping front, there was even a history exhibition housed in a marble gallery she longed to explore, but didn't dare disturb her host with silly wishes regarding things women weren't supposed to be interested in as they continued through to the gardens and the river that ran down the city's center.

When she awoke the next morning, she and Ainoko went to bathe in the springs, but Orihime's mind still wandered back to that exhibit. She longed to explore it and as her stepmother napped upon their return to the house, she took her opportunity.

Orihime stole from the residence. It was easier than she'd imagined since they hadn't brought any servants. The three-story domicile came fully staffed.

It only took minutes before she was traveling on her own, feeling free among the crowds of a new city.

She wandered, wide-eyed, shocked at how different everything looked without a guide to direct her. It was wonderful. She needed to hurry though lest Ainoko discover her escape, but as she walked she came across a store front that housed a stunning dress in rich, burgundy silk.

It was so different from her dresses.

Binding high under the breasts and pushing them up into a flattering shape, and… Orihime looked around, noting the other woman around her. They were all dressed in a similar fashion. And when her eyes fell to her own older-style gown… Then back to the storefront.

She wanted it.

Maybe she could convince Ainoko to think of it as a souvenir. She was almost eighteen after all, why shouldn't she have a say in her own wardrobe? It wasn't immodest. And even if Sorame handled all her finances, Orihime knew she wasn't poor. Not at all. She had the money… And it would be under her discretion in a few months anyway… Would it really hurt anything if she splurged just a tiny bit?

She wrung her fingers, brow furrowed.

Perhaps… Perhaps she would just try it on. Just to see what it felt like to own something so beautiful.

Orihime pushed the door open, starting at the chime that sounded from overhead. She looked up but a throat cleared in front of her and she smiled at the shop's proprietor.

"May I help you, lady?"

"I'd like to try on a dress, if I could."

The woman looked her over as if assessing her ability to pay before a smile changed her features. "Yes, of course. Which one would you like?"

Could it really be so simple? She half expected the woman to _know_ she was going against her stepmother's wishes.

"The red dress, please."

The woman whipped the dress from the manikin as Orihime watched in awe, and in a few minutes that seemed like bare seconds, she was helping Orihime from her old, caramel-colored dress into the deep red. But the attendant stopped and stared when she spotted Orihime's corset.

"You… will need new underthings as well?"

Orihime flushed. "I don't really like corsets, I'm sorry. I'd rather not have anymore."

"Ah, no. You misunderstand. Would you like a _newer_ corset? One that nips at your waist and lifts the breast, but leaves you to breath. This dress wouldn't work with…" she trailed off, waving a hand at Orihime's midsection, nose crinkling.

Orihime smiled at the face she made. "You mean it wouldn't cut off my air? Then yes, I would like that very much."

"What color?"

She blinked at the attendant. There were colors to choose from?

The woman smiled at her nonplussed expression and gave her a comforting pat. "I'll bring you one that will compliment your pretty skin."

She came back carrying a smaller corset, covered in lace in a pale pink. A beautiful creation. Orihime looked over her figure after it was tied in place, loving that it enhanced her natural curves without detracting from them.

She felt female. Not like the shapeless tomboy she'd been as a child.

Staring at her reflection, she truly understood for the first time, she was a grown woman.

Her breasts that had always been larger than average, swelled at the top, edged with the lace. They led down to a small waist and then curved into her own unbound hips in a single smooth line. She felt delicate and feminine, but somehow stronger at the same time. What a strange feeling…

And once the dress was on, the change was astounding. Orihime shook her head at her reflection.

The attendant pulled up her hair, letting a few curled, black strands drape over one shoulder as she pinned it back. "There. Magnifique. I can hardly believe the change. What a striking young woman was under all that fabric. Do you like it?" At Orihime's stunned nod, she smiled. "Would you like to try on another?"

Orihime nodded again. "May… May I wear this out?"

"Of course, lady, anything you wish."

The bell over the door twinkled and a woman's voice drifted to the changing room.

"Excuse me a moment. Whenever you like, you may look at the other dresses. Just have one of the girls bring anything you like back here to try on."

She left. After a few more moments of staring, Orihime shook herself enough to follow, browsing her way back to the front of the store as snippets of the other woman's shopping reached her ears.

"The sizing is right, but I'm not sure about the color. What do you think?"

The person she spoke to was quiet, and then a response came in a voice so familiar, Orihime froze where she stood.

"I think it looks like all the other dresses you own. Why did you drag me along to this? Don't you have any female friends?"

_Lord Kurosaki._

Here.

Kurosaki-kun, her mind corrected so smoothly she hardly noticed it. Orihime tilted her head and lifted the hem of a dress trying to steal a peek. Perhaps… Perhaps she was only imagining that voice sounding so—

She saw orange and dropped the dress.

"Because I was happy to see you, fool. Don't tell me you didn't miss me. Or would you rather have been left with your father?" She gave a delicate snort. "He was plotting something, even I could tell it."

There was a grumble and it made Orihime's belly do funny things.

They were only standing a few yards away, and Orihime thought to sneak back to the changing rooms when the shopkeeper spotted her.

"Did you find anything else, lady?"

She was between aisles when two heads turned in her direction.

The taller figure stiffened, brow furrowing and pulling down. "Inoue?"

Orihime winced.

She could feel his eyes on her. The changes that she'd been so proud of in the dressing room, made her feel almost naked in front of him now. On display. But he was only blinking at her in a strange way. Like he suspected her appearance was only some trick of the light.

She swallowed, and had to try twice to speak. "Lo— Kurosaki-kun."

His expression changed.

Slight, almost imperceptible, but it seemed softer somehow. It made her nervous and she couldn't hold his gaze.

Orihime looked to his companion that glanced between them with curious, violet eyes. She was short. Several inches below Orihime with raven tresses that framed her face. One longer strand fell between her eyes in an artistic and careless way Orihime envied.

Even with such a petite body, she was beautiful. Pale, flawless skin and sharp features. Clearly nobility. A good companion for someone like Lord Kurosaki. Orihime couldn't argue that.

Standing before them, she felt insubstantial and silly. As if she were merely playing at being titled.

Or as if she were intruding.

Orihime had no reason to complain or be jealous. She knew that. She had turned down his offer after all. And now it seemed he'd found someone else. It was more like disappointment, she supposed. But she didn't own him, and what had she expected? Had she thought there was a chance a man of his standing had actually been interested in her in seriousness?

The lord took a step in her direction, cutting through her thoughts like a knife.

"What are you doing here?"

"S-Shopping…" Her voice was smaller than she intended.

His lips pressed, and she almost couldn't take her eyes from them. They were perfect. Lower lip fuller than the top. She had a sudden vision of running her tongue over it.

"I meant in Karakura."

She swallowed. "Oh."

Her eyes fell to the floor, and she struggled with her response. What could she say? That she'd been invited by yet another of his cousins? Even she knew how strange the truth sounded.

"Ichigo," his companion cut in smoothly. "You're flustering the poor girl. Stop badgering her. She can go where she wishes and do what she pleases without answering to you."

The wash of relief Orihime felt at being saved made her knees quiver.

His head snapped down toward his companion and he gave a thunderous glower. "It was just a question."

The woman continued like he hadn't spoken, unaffected by the animosity. She heaved a long sigh and waved him off, head tilted away in disdain. "And in a woman's clothing shop. Just wait until your mother hears. She'll be heartbroken. Honestly, Ichigo, they sell woman's underwear here. Could you be a bigger degenerate?"

He jerked at the last word, irrevocably distracted from his line of questioning for which Orihime was grateful.

"_Degenerate_?" he hissed. "_You_ were the one that dragged _me_ in here. I didn't even want to come."

"No excuses. You're making us uncomfortable, idiot. Leave."

The lord looked as if he would either argue or strangle her, but the shop mistress reemerged at Orihime's side, holding up a striking, blue corset identical to the one she had on.

"Ah, Lady Inoue, I found the half-corset in blue. It would be impeccable for you." She held it up to Orihime's face. "Look how it brings a rosy hue to your cheeks."

Ichigo's mouth snapped shut. His amber gaze stuck to the lacy garment before drifting up to meet Orihime's.

His companion cleared her throat, and he jolted then glared down at her.

He left without saying anything further, a fierce expression on his face, jaw locked and working. Embarrassment and humiliation mingled as Orihime took the proffered corset with murmured thanks to the shopkeeper. She hadn't meant to make him angry. Wasn't all that sure _what_ had made him angry…

"He's always like that. No need to worry."

Orihime flushed further when she realized the woman was watching her stare after the departing lord. "I wasn't worried…"

The words died in her throat when the woman only raised a brow then smiled. "Since the clod failed to introduce us, I am Rukia Kuchiki."

"Orihime Inoue."

"You're a friend of his? From Seireitei?"

She nodded, hoping taking liberties with claiming his friendship wouldn't offend him if he found out.

"I see. Are you in love with him?"

Orihime choked.

Her eyes went wide and she flapped her hands, dropping the corset then bending to pick it back up. When she stood she bumped into a manikin and had to grab it quickly to stop the display from pitching over.

She spun back to Rukia, heart thumping a frantic rhythm against her breastbone. "W-What… Why… I don't—"

"Hmm."

Rukia turned to walk up the aisle and Orihime followed, taking small steps while clutching the corset to her chest, wringing the fabric between her fingers. Did the woman hate her? Did she think Orihime was after her lover?

The dark-haired noble fingered a dress. "This would be a good style for you." Her hand lifted in a practiced gesture and a girl appeared form nowhere. "Have this fitted for Lady Inoue and charge it to my purchases."

"No, that's not necessary, I can pay—"

Rukia pulled the corset from her fingers and handed that over as well, then patted them with a smile. "It's a gift. It would be rude for you to refuse it."

Orihime bit her lip, and watched Rukia continue perusing gowns. "Why did you ask… ask me…"

"If you were in love with him?" The woman's violet eyes held amusement and a hint of laughter. "Because it's obvious. I've known Ichigo since we were children. He inspires many emotions, but love..." She shrugged. "Most women want his title, or in his bed, or are simply frightened of him. You didn't seem any of those things." Rukia paused, thoughtful. "But I've never seen him look at a woman the way he was looking at you. Maybe if he did, they wouldn't all go running when he gets huffy."

"But aren't you and he… Aren't you…"

Rukia laughed. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, when she could breathe again. "We would murder each other inside a week."

She wiped a tear away, and Orihime smiled, lightened.

The urge to hug the woman nearly overwhelmed her, but she only gave her brightest smile. "I want to get you a dress too."

Rukia blinked then returned her smile. "Alright. Thank you."

Orihime laughed as they picked things out. Rukia was a great help knowing what was in style and necessary for a wardrobe, and what would be impractical. By the time they were finished Orihime had purchased seven dresses, four different half-corsets, and five pairs of shoes to be sent back to their rented house.

They exited the shop over an hour later, still bubbly with the excitement of their purchases and newfound friendship.

Lord Kurosaki was leaning against a stone column a quarter-block away, arms crossed and scowling at passing traffic. The expression held an edge of thoughtful concentration, and Orihime hesitated when she saw it, wanting to commit the calmer look to her memory.

"He's not as cold and hard as he lets on," Rukia said from beside her. "He is kind-hearted, gentle when he wants to be. And he's easily wounded."

Orihime turned to see that Rukia had followed her gaze.

She swallowed and nodded, a little surprised that she'd already known as much.

-o-

When she arrived home, Ainoko was waiting.

Her stepmother frowned at her quiet entrance into the foyer and stood from her chair. "Where have you been? And do not think to lie to me, Orihime. I already know you were not with Tsukishima-san, he called earlier. He came to invite us to dine at the Kurosaki estate, but you were not here to receive his call. Where were you?"

Orihime stood still. She knew her stepmother wouldn't be pleased with her outing, but she hadn't expected this amount of ire.

The woman trembled with it, face pale.

She felt a stab of concern. "Oka-san, are you ill?"

"Answer the question!"

Orihime jerked back.

"I-I went for a walk and ended up shopping. That's all. I thought I'd see more of the city."

Ainoko's eyes narrowed, looking between both of Orihime's and then to her dress. "And that is all? You met no one?"

"I went walking, Oka-san."

Her stepmother sat, closing her eyes. "You will go prepare for dinner. We leave in thirty minutes, and will not speak of this again. You are not to leave the house without me. I will not raise a bastard child for you if you provoke a man beyond measure by strolling the streets alone like some common trollop. Men are disreputable creatures that act on base desires without regard to the complications that result for the woman."

Orihime didn't know what to make of the speech.

"Get yourself prepared. You must be presentable for a Duke. Now."

"Yes, Oka-san."

**A/N**

**So here's my question. Would you rather have shorter chapters that come out faster or would you like me to keep the chapters long? I already have the next chapter planned out, so it'd start after that, but what do you think? I just don't know. **

**Anyways, I know I've mentioned that there will be a major plot twist coming up, but I just wanna make sure you all see it coming XD**

**Review? Possibly? Even creative critiques are welcome. Like to point out all those major typos :) Just saying XP**


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Starcross'd

Warnings: Violence, gore, heavy sexual content.

Rating: M

**.**

**Chapter Seven **

**.**

Orihime, Ainoko, and Tsukishima rode to the Kurosaki estate in the Duke's personal carriage which had been dispatched from the residence to retrieve them.

Ainoko gaped at the sleek, black transport with its shining coat of arms when it rolled up to the step and Tsukishima climbed down. It seemed everything about him enthralled her stepmother. From his wealthy influence to his coal-colored locks, he seemed to meet her exacting standards with ease.

Orihime hardly knew what to make of it.

If he could do no wrong in her stepmother's eyes, he was the first.

They reached the Kurosaki ancestral house, entering through a pair of ivy-draped, iron gates, and Orihime felt certain her face had grown as awestruck as Ainoko's.

The "ancestral house" wasn't a house at all. It was a palace.

Surrounded by a small lake on three sides, the peninsula-shaped estate mirrored the family's name.

Sprawling green lawns stretched in two directions, and the far bank of the lake held an immense forest. They rolled through gardens so vast and picturesque they appeared as though painted by a master artist. There were dovecotes and stables, fountains and statues, orchards and a winery.

Immaculately trimmed trees lined the drive, leading the way to the main building.

The palace itself was made of the same pristine, white limestone as the city, but it was purer in color. It shone in the light from the falling sun like a torch. The structure held towers and turrets, and windows that rose three full stories from the ground up. A curved colonnade ran the length of the back side of the palace, only broken by a terrace that was large enough to seat than their entire Seireitei dwelling on its surface.

They drove under the portico and the vehicle came to a smooth stop.

The driver opened the door and a couple stood waiting at the top of the front steps, attended by a host of servants. As Tsukishima-kun handed her down, Orihime recognized the tall, dark-haired man as the duke and inferred the woman at his side to be the duchess.

Kurosaki-kun's mother and father.

She bit her lip.

Tsukishima shook the duke's hand and kissed the woman's cheek. "Uncle Isshin, Aunt Masaki, I present you the Lady Inoue Orihime, and her mother, Inoue Ainoko. Lady Inoue, the Duke and Duchess of Karakura."

Her hand was shaking when the duke took it, but he smiled at her kindly. "Lady Inoue."

"Y-Your grace—"

His wife brushed passed Orihime's hand and took her into an embrace. "We've heard so much about you from Shū. Welcome to our home, you must call me Masaki."

The woman's happy grin was contagious. Orihime would've thought such imposing titles would come with permanent frowns, but unlike Kurosaki-kun's serious demeanor, his parents didn't seem to stop smiling.

"Shū?" she asked.

"That's right. He didn't tell you?" Masaki turned to look over her shoulder at Tsukishima and shook her head in mock disapproval. "Shame on you, Shū-chan. It's his nickname," she whispered in Orihime's ear, turning to lead their party toward the entrance. "Although it fit much better when he was running around the grounds in diapers, scraping his knees and getting stuck up the trees in the topiary garden."

Tsukishima sighed deeply. "Aunt, if you scare her off, I'll never get dear Orihime to the alter."

Her step faltered at the abrupt use of her given name.

"Are you alright?" Masaki asked, blinking, helping her right herself.

Her expression was so concerned, Orihime couldn't find the heart to do anything less than reassure her.

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry. Just… Just clumsy."

Masaki smiled, patting Orihime's hand that she'd linked through her arm as she chatted. The woman was so excited she seemed to bounce more than walk. "We'll have dinner shortly. The children haven't arrived back yet, but we can wait for them in the Great Room. The rest of the family should be coming in within the week, but I didn't want to overwhelm you with so many new faces, so we kept it small for tonight. I hope you're not terribly hungry. They should be returning any—"

Laughter boomed through the high corridors followed by the shutting of heavy doors. She picked out Jaegerjaquez-kun's carrying voice, then a lower response that she knew would be Kurosaki-kun's. There were other tones, female.

Orihime tensed.

"Ah!" Masaki patted her hand again. "Ichigo always had such a good sense of time. I knew he'd get them back."

Her stomach tied itself into knots, and she nodded absently.

Ichigo and Grimmjow rounded the corner into the hall, and Orihime knew her eyes were wide with trepidation. A pair of girls trailed behind, one with hair the color of Masaki's and the other with darker features that reminded her of the duke. His sisters…? Or more cousins?

Busy talking amongst themselves, Ichigo didn't notice her until Masaki called out to them, waving an arm. "There you are! Shū's guests are here, come introduce yourselves."

His eyes finally came up and he almost missed a step. Ichigo stopped walking.

When he only stared at her, then all of them together, Orihime dropped her eyes.

"This is Lady—"

"We've met."

Restlessness skittered up Ichigo's spine, following close on the back of the wash of warmth seeing her produced.

She was beautiful. Clothed in the wine-colored gown she'd worn that afternoon, she held a stunning figure that seemed to have appeared overnight. It took him a few seconds of blinking to take his eyes off it. He'd noticed something along those lines earlier, but in the crowded dress-shop, he hadn't had a direct line of sight to appreciate the transformation.

He couldn't miss the changes now.

But what was she doing here? Not that he was complaining. Had she come to see him? The thought alone made his veins buzz with charged energy.

He attempted to search Orihime's face, but she kept it turned down, her lip tucked between her teeth.

Grimm shifted beside him and when Ichigo glanced over, he caught him looking past her and toward the back. Following his gaze, he spotted Tsukishima a second before his dark-headed cousin stepped up, took Orihime's arm from his mother, and placed it on his own.

Ichigo didn't move. Didn't breath. Didn't see anything else.

Even his heart felt like it stammered to a halt.

There was a moment where no one spoke. But he was too busy replaying those fucking fingers curling around her elbow to fill it. And the look that passed between his cousins… What was that?

His jaw began to ache and he realized he was clinching it hard enough for his teeth to grind. Just what the fuck was going on? First Grimmjow and now Tsukishima? Was she playing some sort of game? Or were his cousins playing some game with her? Maybe he should go back to his earlier theory that it was all just a grand deception to have a laugh at his expense.

He shook the thought off.

"You already know each other?" Masaki asked, blinking between them all. Her tone held a nervous timbre. His mother hated family fighting.

Tsukishima answered for him. "That's right, Aunt. We all met in Seireitei. Grimmjow, Ichigo-chan, myself, and Orihime."

He stroked the backs of his fingers, down the delicate skin of her arm as he said her name.

His brown eyes flicked across to Ichigo's with a smugness that clicked something in his brain. In his mind, he closed the distance between them and answered the challenging look with the satisfying crunch of knuckles sinking into flesh and bone. It took his a handful of disoriented seconds to realize it hadn't been real. That he was still frozen in place.

He was up to something.

His bastard, untrustworthy cousin knew _exactly_ what he was doing. And somehow, he realized as Grimmjow shifted beside him again, Grimmjow knew something was going on too.

He had to speak with her. Had to find out how the hell she'd ended up with _him_ of all the people that had chosen to court her.

Tsukishima was a snake. Had as little concept of pity as a black widow.

"O-Oh," his mother was still looking between them. No, she was looking between him and Inoue and Tsukishima, her pleased smile more forced than before. "Well, then, we've saved some time with introductions." Another overly wide smile before her hands fluttered toward his sisters. "Girls, I know you haven't met them yet. This is Lady Inoue and her mother Ainoko. My daughters, Yuzu and Karin."

Karin and Yuzu made polite greetings, but even they seemed to notice the tension hanging in the air.

Eager to change the focus, Masaki directed them to the Dining Room. Since his father was escorting Orihime's stepmother, he took his mother's arm. He could feel her questioning gaze on the side of his face, so he didn't turn to look her. He felt bad about it, but there was nothing he could say that wouldn't make her worry more.

Not when he was this level of concerned himself.

The meal began with the same heavy air, but after his parents sat down together it was only a matter of time before they began embarrassing the rest of them with childhood stories and other ridiculous subjects. And even though he was tense enough to be strung on a bow, by the time they got around to the bout of chickenpox he'd had across his backside as a toddler, Ichigo was ready to crawl under the furniture.

He shook his head and met Orihime's gaze across the table, and she blushed, reaching forward to pick up her drink.

From his periphery, he saw Tsukishima lean down and whisper something into her ear.

Orihime's eyes widened.

His father snorted and clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him off Orihime and back into his chair.

"Careful, boy, if you keep setting the bar so high, it'll be the last time any of us ever get—"

"_Isshin!_" Masaki cuffed her husband on the arm, but her rebuke couldn't be taken seriously when she was so busy laughing at him.

Ichigo covered his face with his palm as Orihime looked at him then blushed harder. For once, he was grateful his father was heading interference. It meant he'd also noticed something strange between Tsukishima and Orihime. Two pairs of watchful eyes were always better than one.

He needed to find a way to speak with her. There was a chance that she actually liked his cousin and intended to let him court her. Either way, he kept his thoughts to himself. He didn't want her to be any more uncomfortable in front of his parents.

Ichigo shook his head again. "I'd say they're not usually this bad, but…"

Isshin kissed the top of Masaki's red-brown locks, a wide grin covering his features. The two looked like they were still honeymooning. They were happy. Nothing could mask such sincere emotion.

When dinner was over, they moved to the Emerald Room, which contrary to its name, wasn't green and didn't house any jewels. Tsukishima and Grimmjow disappeared, conspicuously enough that he was tempted to find them. His mother had Ainoko cornered and was pestering the woman for the secrets to her pitch-black hair.

He snorted. He'd never seen his mother cover her hair, and he couldn't tell if she was genuinely curious or if she was attempting to make friends or something else more strategic.

His father leaned against the fireplace, teasing Yuzu and Karin. Orihime stood at the windows that looked out over the back lawns and down to the lake.

He went over to her, and she jumped at his sudden presence.

He steadied her with a hand on her elbow. "Sorry."

Seeing who startled her, she only tensed further, but smiled, shaking her head. "It wasn't your fault. I… I sometimes get caught up in my thoughts."

"What were you thinking?"

She stiffened. Swallowing, she gestured to the windows. "It's beautiful here. The lake and the grounds."

He hadn't meant to ask, but she hadn't answered him honestly anyway. Ichigo wasn't sure what he'd expected.

He nodded toward the terrace. "Do you want to see it closer?"

Orihime looked up at him, and from such a short distance, he could see the lighter strands of silver in her wide eyes. She shivered. Did he frighten her? He'd never cared much if women were afraid of him before, just written off as another silly thing they tended to do. But he didn't like the idea of her being afraid of him.

Strange. There was an almost possessive emotion that came over him when he looked at her.

The thought that she'd belonged to him first.

It was true enough, wasn't it? Before anyone else had known her, she'd been his. His dream. The girl in his head. And even if none of these impossible things made sense, he felt _connected_ to her. Whether she returned that or not, it wasn't something he'd forget or be able to walk away from. He'd never felt this way for a woman. Not once.

And he'd told himself he was content to sit back and let her live her own life, no matter what all that entailed. Getting married, raising a family. It wasn't like he could actually own her— didn't _want_ to own her.

But seeing it for his self… Seeing other men vying for her attention. Maybe that was a lie. Maybe he couldn't just watch from the side. Maybe he did want her for himself.

And he wasn't willing to ignore that she might be in danger.

Orihime peeked up at him from beneath her lashes. A shy gesture. Just a flash of mirror-bright silver.

"Will it be alright, I-I mean…"

She gestured to the rest of the room's occupants.

It took him a second to decipher her meaning. She was asking if it was appropriate for them to be alone together. The back wall of the Emerald Room was made hundreds of panes of glass, as long as they stayed between the house and the lake, they would be in full sight of anyone looking out.

He said as much, and if she were nervous, she still followed him outside.

Ichigo closed the wood-framed, glass door with less noise than a whisper. If his mother was going out of her way to distract that woman like he suspected, he didn't want to destroy the effort by being careless.

He wasn't sure what her motivation was for helping him gain privacy with Tsukishima's "guest," but maybe it had something to do with the fact that she'd been pulling every string within her reach for the past two years to get him to the marry.

His mother would likely throw him at a female pit-bull if she thought it would earn her grand-puppies.

Although, she also had no way of suspecting his intentions were anything less than honorable. His mother trusted him.

He wished he trusted himself with this particular girl.

Ichigo took precautions anyway, never standing too close to the embodiment of his temptation. When she stopped at the cement baluster to look out over the lake, he left an arm's length between them.

"This place is so perfect, I can hardly believe it's all real."

The night had descended, and the lake was still, its black surface reflecting the light of a hundred gaslights from the stone-paved walkway. This wasn't what he wanted to talk about, but he bit his tongue from the instant questions that threatened, and stood beside her.

Someday the palace would belong to him, after his parents passed on. A soft voice in the back of his head speculated about what she would do if he offered it to her.

Ichigo sighed.

"Believe it. It took something like three hundred workers to spruce up the grounds this year. Ten of them just to chase the stupid peacocks around."

Orihime turned on him, lips parted. Eyes alight with wonder. "There are peacocks?"

He snorted. "And hounds. And Ocelots. And a tiger. And—"

"A… A _tiger_?"

He gave her an amused, sidelong glance. "It's domesticated. My father indulges my mother's every whim. There's even a hedge garden shaped into a maze."

Orihime looked fascinated.

When Ichigo smirked back a change came over her face.

She still looked fascinated, but her eyes had fallen lower. To his mouth.

He swallowed. His skin prickled like it was being traced with a thousand razor-sharp, red-hot needles. He shook his head. "Why are you here with Tsukishima?"

Her eyes flicked back up to his. They were dark as summer storm clouds when they lowered back toward the ground.

He almost reached out to tilt her chin up.

The doors clicked open.

Tsukishima strode across the veranda. Ichigo could see Orihime's stepmother standing darker against the square of light as if she would rush out after him.

"Cousin, you're monopolizing my dinner guest. I'm afraid, I'll be needing her back."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes as he approached.

Damn. He should've skipped through the pointless details and just asked. Now, he'd have to wait for another opportunity.

Ichigo grit his teeth, glancing back down at Orihime as if waiting for her protest. She said nothing.

His hand clenched in his pocket.

Striding passed his cousin, Ichigo didn't look back. Anything he saw would only make him furious.

His mother was distracting that woman again when he entered further down the long room. Thankfully.

He dropped into an armchair, one leg flung over the arm and glared at Grimmjow. "What is he doing with her?"

"Oni-chan…" Yuzu frowned at his abrupt question before going back to her needlework.

He didn't care if he was being rude. He wanted someone to start giving him some answers.

Grimmjow stared back, impassive, before looking away. "We already talked about this."

"No, I talked. I don't know what you did, but now she's with him, and I wanna know why."

"Hell if I know what she sees in that bastard."

Yuzu tutted the cursing, and Grimmjow pressed his lips at her.

"'M leavin'. Like I said, I don't answer ta you."

"No. You answer to me," his father said.

Grimmjow gave Isshin a rare startled glance as if he'd forgotten he was in the room. His father's characteristic immaturity was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he gazed at his nephew with a steady assessment.

Masaki and Ainoko chose that moment to return.

Yuzu perked up. "Where are Tsukishima and Inoue?"

"What?" Ichigo turned to search down the long gallery's terrace, squinting against the glare on the glasses surface.

They were gone.

Grimmjow straightened as if to go look himself, and then twitched when Ainoko placed her hand on his arm.

"I'm certain they were just there. I doubt there's any reason for alarm," Ainoko said, settling deeper into her seat.

Ichigo ignored he words, fists clenched.

When his mother touched his shoulder, and he realized he'd stood from his chair and startled her without conscious thought.

He reached up and detached her. He'd need to apologize later, but he couldn't spare the time now. "Excuse me."

Masaki stared at his back as he left, and her husband walked over.

She turned to him. "Did I tease too much? At dinner, I thought—"

"Never, darling." Reaching down, he took the hand Ichigo had removed and kissed it before following his son.

"You know," Karin said. "He is a grown man. You could tone down the match-making."

"_Karin_." Yuzu frowned at her twin, mouth twisting in disapproval before she went back to her work, shaking her head.

"What? Someone needs to keep her in check before she runs amok. You know, it'll be us next."

Yuzu's eyes widened as she realized her sister was right.

Oblivious to the exchange, Masaki watched as her son and husband disappeared.

"As I said, there's no need for concern," Ainoko continued, lips curving into a pleased smile. "I have it on good authority that he's to ask her a certain question that will put all thoughts of impropriety from everyone's head."

-o-

Orihime followed Tsukishima down to the lake, her head still fogged from Kurosaki-kun's closeness when they'd spoken. If only she were there with him instead of his cousin. If only _he_ had been the one to invite her.

She gazed out over the surface of the dark water as her host commented on its history, but she wasn't listening.

It'd become painfully obvious to her that she couldn't marry or even entertain thoughts of marriage to Tsukishima-kun. She was fond of him, yes, but he wasn't her brother, and it wasn't right to treat him as if he were. Kurosaki-kun was the one she was interested in, but after so many adverse encounters, there was no hope he could possibly feel the same way.

He confirmed as much when he asked her what she was doing with his cousin.

How he must loathe her…

First the ball, and then the episode at his house, the library mess, Grimmjow's attentions, and now, Tsukishima. It seemed no matter if she had good intentions or no intentions at all, fate was determined to outwit and outmaneuver her to pit them against one another.

What did she even want?

She wasn't certain. Freedom, she supposed, but it wasn't even that.

The majority of her life had been spent at the pleasure of others, and now when she was in sight of being independent, in sight of her eighteenth birthday, she was to be forced to marry. What would her stepparents do if she simply refused?

They couldn't force her to love a person after all. And although she knew a successful marriage was built on more than love, she wasn't ready to condemn herself into one that didn't have any.

The answer was no.

Until she found someone she loved and could respect for the rest of her life, she couldn't compromise.

It was such a simple solution. She wondered why it had never occurred to her before. Her stepparents would be displeased, yes. They seemed to want her to marry as soon as possible, but if she explained her logic, perhaps they would listen. She knew she was a burden, but she would tell them in no uncertain terms that when she reached her majority, they would no longer be saddled with taking care of her or her estate. Perhaps that would lessen the stressful strain.

"I must be boring you terribly, my dear," Tsukishima drawled.

"Hm?" She looked up to see him watching her. Orihime flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you'd like a tour of the house. It's too dark to see the grounds, but there's a Grand Ballroom, the Mirror Room, the King's Chambers—"

"The King's Chambers?"

"Well, not the first king, but the fourth or so. Would you like to see it?"

Orihime hesitated, looking back toward the house. "What about the others?"

"We could extend the invitation to your mother, but I'm not sure her bad leg could handle the journey. It might cause her undue distress to escort us."

Orihime bit her lip.

Tsukishima took her hand. "It isn't far. We'll pop up and back down before anyone notices we've left. It will only take a few minutes."

"I don't think—"

He considered her. "I could ask Kurosaki-kun if he'd like to join us. Would that make you more comfortable?"

She tried to decipher the edge in his voice but failed. Was he mocking her? The way he inflected the kun… She couldn't think of a time she'd heard Tsukishima call Ichigo by that name. No. No, she did not think having Kurosaki-kun along would make her more comfortable. Not after the problems she was obviously causing between the two.

"Just a few minutes?"

"Just a few minutes," he promised.

"A-Alright… I suppose… that would be fine."

Tilting his head to the side, he smiled, leading her along. "You won't regret it. There's a secret passage."

All feelings of apprehension fled her thoughts. "Ah! Really…?"

"Mm. There's quite a few here."

Orihime rushed along after him, hurrying faster toward the shadowed end of the walk connecting to the house. A secret passage? It was like something from a storybook. She loved the idea, but once again found herself wishing it was someone else that was with her. Like her brother. Or like Kurosaki-kun.

He led her straight to the passageway, opening it with practiced ease. She hadn't even spotted it amongst the vines.

The dark entrance was foreboding, but Tsukishima pulled her along, laughing off her stammered protests.

"Honestly, you're like a child, dearling. The dark won't hurt you."

She didn't know how to answer that, and even if she did, Orihime wasn't certain he would listen to her protest. But after climbing a flight of stone steps, they emerged safely enough through a wall that looked nothing more from the outside than the dead end of a hallway.

She was enthralled. "And there are others?"

"Yes, but we can explore those later. For now, I want to show you this." Opening a pair guilt doors, he turned and bowed with a flourish as she entered. "The Mirror Room."

Orihime gasped.

Even in the moonlight, the chamber glowed. Mirrors gleamed from every surface, the walls, the columns, the arches. A single low chandelier hung in the center of the room, but even though it wasn't lit, the room wall full of bluish light.

Reflected from the sky, she realized, spying the full-length open windows on two sides. They must be on one of the corners of the palace.

"Watch," he said, stepping up to the chandelier and striking a match.

As soon as it flared, the light in the room caught and magnified by a hundred fold. Then she saw the fixture itself was made of hanging strands of mirrors as well. A single candle filled the entire room. It was the most magical thing she'd ever seen.

"My uncle had this room built to propose to Aunt Masaki."

Orihime blinked.

_Oh. Oh, no…_

He went to the sideboard, his back was to her, but he emerged with two glasses half-filled with blood-red wine.

"Toast with me." He handed her a glass. "To a life overflowing with recompense."

The chink of glass was loud in the silent room, and she took a drink just to avoid his eyes. It seemed a strange toast to make if he were going to propose. Perhaps she'd misread his intentions.

There was a sharp taste and she wrinkled her nose before realizing her rude gesture.

He smiled. "Spiced wine. It's made here in the winery. You don't like it? Aunt will be crushed."

Her eyes widened and she hurried to reassure him. "Oh, I do like it. I just wasn't expecting—" Orihime swayed as sudden warmth filled her belly. She shook her head to chase the growing haze from her thoughts. "It's very strong."

"Really? Most people find it to be a weak vintage."

She had to steady herself with his arm when the floor tilted. "I'm not used to much wine."

"Then perhaps you should lie down. You've still yet to see the King's Chambers, and then there's…"

Orihime didn't recall beyond that. She didn't recall saying yes, didn't recall the walk there beside where her skin brushed his. Fire burned through her veins. Every brush of skin or clothing magnified until she couldn't think of anything else. Her head cleared, but her body wound tight as a spring.

She was laid out over a yielding surface and she moaned softly.

Even the springy texture beneath her made her whine and arch with pleasure. Fingers brushed hair from her neck and she shuddered, gasping, squeezing her eyes shut.

Her body pulsed and she pictured burning amber eyes piercing hers, palms sliding around to loosen her dress, perfect lips brushing her throat.

"K-Kuro… Kuro…"

"Hm…? What was that, my dear?"

Tsukishima loomed over her and her startled mind struggled to find traction.

That wasn't… wasn't who she thought… who she'd been imagining…

"N-No," She panted.

He laughed again and stroked her stomach, and tendrils of fire blossomed over her skin.

The door slammed open.

It sounded like a revolver shot, slicing through her cloudy thoughts. Beside her, Tsukishima jerked around.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

_Kurosaki-kun._

She wanted to cry, but couldn't tell if it was from mortification or relief. But it didn't matter. The tears built in her eyes anyway.

She blinked hard, forcing them back enough to see Ichigo materialize in the doorway. He took heaving breaths as if he'd run a long distance. Each one seemed full of menacing fury.

"You bastard," he hissed.

Tsukishima stood at the end of the bed.

She slid to the floor, steadying herself at the edge. With her feet under her, the surroundings took shape and her head began to clear a fraction. She noticed Ichigo's father behind him, his hand latched onto his son's shoulder. Had he already been there? Had he seen?

Her hands flew up to her loosened neckline, trying to keep it from showing too much.

"What were you doing with her in here?" Isshin asked. His voice was even, but it held an unyielding tinge.

Tsukishima straightened a fraction. "Proposing, actually. Lady Inoue and I are going to be married."

She blinked, looking up to see that small, disarming smile playing over his features. His eyes were unreadable.

Ichigo's weren't. He turned to her with open shock. "Is that… Is that true?"

"I… I…" Orihime swallowed and tried to think. She didn't remember Tsukishima asking, and she didn't remember saying yes. But how could she say they weren't, when they'd just found her in such a position.

Why hadn't she tried to stop him? She'd done _nothing _to discourage him.

If she said no, they would think her immoral.

She couldn't look at them. See the condemnation in their faces. What they'd witnessed… What they must think of her…

But they were waiting on an answer.

Orihime gave a jerky nod.

Ichigo stared at her defeated form. That wasn't what had happened. He'd _seen _it. "Inoue…?"

She flinched.

"Then I suppose congratulations are in order." Isshin said, stepping out from behind him. "Welcome to the family."

Orihime trembled, eyes cast to the floor.

"Please…" She took a quavering breath. "Please, excuse me…" she said, before she picked up her skirts and fled.

Ichigo glared at his cousin as Orihime ran by, her gown brushing his legs as she twisted around them and headed for the door. He couldn't blame her. Tsukishima had purposely put her honor in question.

He knew it.

Ichigo snarled and would've lunged if he hadn't been drawn back by the force of his father's strong arm rooting him to the floor.

His face twisted into disbelief as he looked back over his shoulder. "Oyaji…"

Isshin shook his head.

Ichigo grit his teeth and looked toward opposite wall. He wasn't sure what passed between his father and his cousin. If he had turned back, Ichigo knew it'd take more than a restraining arm to hold him from attacking again.

Tsukishima walked out with crisp strides that echoed down the hall.

"Ichigo."

Ichigo spun, knocking his father's hand away. "How could you let him get away with that!? You _know_ what he just tried!"

"If she admitted he attacked her against her will, he would have been subject to the law, but she didn't. She may not even realize what happened herself yet."

Isshin's voice was calm, reasonable. He hated it at that moment.

"So he just gets away with it? _That's it?_"

Isshin frowned at him. "Of course, it's not. But he's already not getting an inheritance after—" His father took a breath. "What would you have me do? If I cast him out of the family, his funding would be cut off completely. If she does marry him, then they would live off of whatever assets she has at her disposal now. You know what he does with his allowance. It would be the same thing as sentencing her to live with him in destitution. Is that what you want?"

Ichigo eyes shut. No, that wasn't what he wanted. What he wanted was to get her away from his cousin for good. "Oyaji—"

"I'll speak with her in the morning, at her residence where she'll feel safer. We are the only people that witnessed them here. Don't say anything about this to anyone. Not your sisters. Not Rukia or anyone else. If she isn't compromised, he can't force her hand."

Ichigo swallowed and nodded. "I understand."

"I'm going to make sure she finds her way."

Isshin gave his shoulder another squeeze before leaving.

-o-

Orihime didn't dare mention what happened upstairs to her stepmother. Ainoko was already upset enough as it was.

"I don't see why we should bolt away in the middle of a pleasant evening. Besides, the least they could've done is offer up a bed for the night, and they might've if you hadn't been in such a state to leave. I swear, I will never understand you, Orihime. And Tsukishima-kun was most displeased that you left. Heartbroken, I should think if his face was anything to go by—"

"Can we not speak of it?"

She stared out the window and didn't turn to see her stepmother's reaction. She could make out Ainoko's reflection in the glass, and that was more than she wanted at the moment. Her chest ached with the effort to restrain her emotions. She didn't mean to be short, but it was all she could do not to break down in the carriage. There was no telling what punishments such a display would earn her.

Ainoko's demeanor made frost seem comforting. "Interrupting is a most odious practice, child. What has gotten into you?"

"Tsukishima-san and I are engaged to be married."

Her stepmother's mood perked, hands clasping in her lap. "But that's wonderful! Honestly, you'd never know by the way you're moping. When is the date? Soon, I should hope. All these allowances I've been making for the two of you will reflect poorly on your reputation otherwise. My, my… We will need to begin preparations immediately. There will be so much to do. I'll send a message to Sorame as soon as we arrive. He should be thrilled to hear this news. He thought the young man might drag things out indefinitely—"

Orihime's eyes tightened. "Except, Tsukishima-san didn't propose, and I didn't accept."

There was a pause.

"Trifles and details, child. Inconsequential things. The art of engagement has many facets. Has the duke been informed?"

Orihime's eyes fluttered closed.

"Yes."

"Well, then. You are most definitely engaged."

Orihime didn't answer, opting to maintain silent for the duration of the ride. Silence was always the least perilous approach when dealing with Ainoko.

When they arrived back to the rented house, she went straight to her room, dropping to her bed and sobbing into her pillow as the events of the night refused to be kept at bay any longer. What happened, what almost happened, and what may as well have happened for all it mattered to her fate.

She was ruined. Completely compromised.

There was no other option but to follow through with her engagement.

-o-

The following morning Orihime snuck free of the house. She didn't know where to go, only that she needed escape for a few hours. Ainoko had servant rushing to and fro, taking letters and notes as if the world should crumble to the ground if Orihime wasn't wed within the next fortnight.

There would likely be repercussions for running out from her stepmother, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

The stone paved streets passed under her feet without her notice. She crossed the river that flowed through the city's center, and lounged along the banks, looking at the city but not seeing. Orihime traveled aimlessly until she found herself somewhere familiar.

The history exhibition.

She wandered through the stone arch. A dark-haired woman at the gate was inserting a key into the lock.

"Is it closing?"

The woman turned and looked Orihime over with large brown eyes. "That's right, lady. You can come back tomorrow. It opens at sunrise."

"Oh…"

Tomorrow? If her stepparents and Tsukishima had their way, she would likely be married tomorrow. And once Ainoko knew she'd snuck out, there was no guarantee Orihime would get another chance to escape her leash.

"Lady? Are you alright, lady? You seem pale."

Orihime gave a soft smile, the first she'd felt like showing all morning. This woman that didn't even know Orihime was concerned about her. She must be very kindhearted.

"I'm fine, please don't worry about me. I just wish I hadn't missed the chance to see it."

The woman took in the troubled expression lingering on Orihime's face before glancing both directions. "I… I suppose it wouldn't hurt anything if I gave you a short look around."

"You would do that?" Orihime shook her head. "I don't want to get you in trouble."

"No trouble. I'm the last one here. And a few minutes late getting home won't hurt me."

She motioned Orihime to follow, taking the key back in hand and unlocking the gate, pushing it open to allow Orihime through.

"What's your name?" Orihime asked.

"Unagiya Ikumi."

"I'm Inoue Orihime. It's nice to meet you, Ikumi-san."

Ikumi nodded, smiling. "Where would you like to start? It's a short tour, but if there's something specific you'd like to see…"

"Just the tour, please. I don't want to keep you."

Ikumi gave another polite nod, directing her toward a chamber filled with ornate statues and paintings. They all had small plaques and descriptions on identical brass plates with matching script. The entire hall emanated a sense of age and antiquity.

Ikumi-san gestured to the first painting set into one of the arches along the arcade.

Portrayed was a great white fortress made of the same limestone that compromised the majority of the structures in Karakura. Orihime traced it with her eyes as Ikumi launched into a well-rehearsed lesson.

"As most people know, Karakura was the home of the vampire empire— the seat of their power during the war with the original Court of Pure Souls. After they defeated the Shinigami, the vampire king began his conquest north, which took him into conflict with the Quincy King, Yhwach— often dubbed Juha Bach. During that time, the Quincy tribes were virtually eliminated…"

Although Orihime loved history, she was so caught up in the artwork and its inscriptions that she only caught snippets of the woman's words here and there. She went on to talk about the decimation of the Quincy raiding parties, and then the abrupt ending of the vampire empire under the first King of Souls— the head of the Kurosaki family at that time.

When they reached the end of the tour, she studied the depiction of the first king carefully, looking for the strong jaw and rumpled scowl she'd envisioned him with as Ikumi-san told the story, but the painting was old. The hair given him in the portrait was darker, a rich brown.

She felt a stab of disappointment, but shook it off.

Orihime gave Ikumi-san half an ear as she walked.

"Where the original Court of Pure Souls only accepted pure-blooded Shinigami, today our kingdom of the same name holds descendants of every race…"

There was another statue at the end of the walk, centered, as if it were a main attraction of some sort. When she stepped close enough to see it, her eyes widened in surprise.

The pictures and representations she'd seen so far all held humanesque figures, but this one looked to be a creature of dreams. Or nightmares.

The creature was tall with a human body, but claws instead of hands and feet. A skull with bared teeth rested on its sinewy neck, and perched at the top were two great horns with razor-sharp points.

She'd never seen anything like it. But what was it doing in a history museum?

Ikumi stopped beside her. "Our prize exhibit. You won't find it anywhere else. A representation of the god of the underworld."

"God of the underworld…? I've never heard of it. What's it doing here?"

Ikumi smiled. "It's part of the speculation about what happened to the vampire race. Because while it's true the first king receives credit for the defeat, there's a period of twenty something years that scholars can't account for. Some theories about that gap are more popular than others, but in Karakura we have a legend we celebrate about the god of the underworld."

Orihime turned to look at her, and Ikumi smiled the way a proud parent might.

"The story says that when the vampire king set out to conquer the world, the gods became angry at his audacity to become one of them by ruling over their creation. So they sent a demon-god to destroy him. The god of the underworld. Some scholars believe that's where the Shinigami name originated, from the fable of the god of death that defeated the king's greatest enemy. Some people say it's the other way around, and that the god was really only a Shinigami."

Ikumi shrugged.

Orihime stared at the representation and couldn't suppress a small shiver. The creature looked like a demon. Even the tufts of fur that lined its arms and feet, and the long wild hair falling down its back reminded her of the flames of the netherworld.

Ikumi gave her a grin. "The most popular theory outside Karakura is that the vampires were simply destroyed by deception from within, but that doesn't make nearly as good of a story."

"No," Orihime smiled, "I guess it doesn't."

She thanked Ikumi for the tour and left, wandering back the way she'd come.

That distraction hadn't lasted as long as she would've hoped. The sun lowered toward the horizon. It wouldn't be long before she needed to return.

But she didn't want to, she never wanted to go back.

A tear slipped over her cheek and she dashed it away. Just a few moments longer. Maybe that would be enough to settle her tormented thoughts.

A tree grew out of the bank ahead of her, and she went to sit under it.

But the path was steeper than it looked, and when a rock slipped from beneath her foot she was thrown off balance. Tumbling forward, she flailed her arms back, trying to correct her footing to keep from plummeting into the river. Orihime flung her weight backward, hands outstretched to catch herself, but before she did pain flared in her skull.

A white burst of agony shot behind her eyes blanking her vision as the hard ground came up to meet her, and Orihime was swallowed by darkness.

.

.

**A/N**

**End of part one. Twenty-one pages. –sobs- **

**So half of you said long chapters and half of you said short chapters, but I think all of you agreed that it doesn't matter as long as I have them written last week, orz.**

**And did this early chapter earn me a review? :D Yes? :D **


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Starcross'd

Warnings: Violence, gore, heavy sexual content.

Rating: **M**

**.o()o.**

**Part Two**

**Moonset**

**'o()o'**

"Night is not something to endure until dawn.

It is an element, like wind or fire.

Darkness is its own kingdom; it moves to its own laws,

and many living things dwell in it."

― Patricia A. McKillip, Harpist in the Wind

**.**

**Chapter Eight**

**.**

Orihime opened her eyes, dark lashes fluttering as she looked up into the swaying branches of the juniper tree. Sun sprinkled down, blinding her in broken flashes as the foliage shifted like a ship on water.

The branches. That must have been what struck her head when she fell.

Reaching up, she brushed fingers across her wound, but found no mark. No pain or any sign that she'd an altercation with the twisting limbs above. She dropped her hand and licked parched lips. Late for diner without any evidence to show for it. Ainoko would think she ran off. She didn't want to imagine the state her stepmother had likely worked herself.

Sitting up, she took stock of her extremities. Everything seemed to be attached.

She stood, dusting off her pale, lavender skirts.

Then she stopped, still hunched, hand pausing from beating the fine grit free as her vision fixed on the ground. Something wasn't right.

There was no grass. No grass at all. It was dust. Dirt and sand and small stones shifting under her silk slippers.

"Wha…"

Orihime stared, eyes wide.

The first tendrils of dread pooled in her stomach as other inconsistencies chased at the back of conscious thought.

The sun was too bright. The breeze too dry and hot.

Orihime leaned a hand against the rough bark of the juniper, holding her balance as her vision tilted in dizzying waves. Her fingers trembled.

With a deep breath, she braced herself, swallowed, and looked up.

Her eyes squinted, blinded by the glare.

The city was gone.

The breath she'd so carefully gathered shuddered from her lungs as fear gripped her in icy talons. Wilderness swallowed her. A wasteland that stretched as far as sight reached. Scraggly trees peppered the landscape, but even they were parched and barren, limbs bare and far too few in number.

Her mouth opened and closed.

Where was everything? Where was the river? The solid, white stone buildings she adored at first sight? The trees? The people?

She spun, turning to look up the hill, eyes darting from one empty slope to the next. Nothing. It seemed like only a handful of minutes since she strolled down it to sit, but... what happened?

Was it a dream? Had she struck her head so hard, she'd undergone some sort of trauma?

Orihime backed away from the tree— It was the same tree, wasn't it? It couldn't be a similar one. The distinctive branches held the same shape. The same scars on the twisting bark. It was the land that had changed, not the tree.

Her eyes filled and she fought a sob. Could it be a hoax? Or had Ainoko and Sorame gotten so tired of her they'd paid some… some criminal to abandon her in the wild—

She shook her head.

No, what was she thinking? The tree was the same. The tree was the _same_. It was _all_ the same. But it wasn't.

She stumbled forward, nearly tripped as her rebellious feet dragged behind. She forced them to take even steps. Where would another fall send her? If she was even in this place at all. Maybe she was still unconscious.

Licking her lips, Orihime tried to gauge the too-bright-sun's position. It seemed to be the afternoon sun, not the setting one she'd left.

She walked— wandered really.

There wasn't any choice. She needed water. She needed to find people. She needed to know this wasn't all a terrible dream.

It seemed as though she traveled miles, but it must've only been her thirst that made it seem that way. The exhaustion of climbing one hill after another, with the sky an empty, blue canvas overhead. Orihime trekked until she was faint with it, the sun harsh at her back, heavy fabric dragging in the dust, and arms drawn to her front to keep them from burning or blistering in the heat. She'd never been frail, but she'd been too dismayed to eat or drink much before she'd fled the house, and if that was only yesterday morning, it was still over a day without food or water.

She wished she hadn't been so stubborn now.

Coming over the crest of a slope, Orihime spotted movement.

Stilling, some slumbering preservation drive stirring to life, she squinted to pick up the danger.

No, not something dangerous.

A child scraping in the dirt. A girl. Small hands dug at tuffs of yellowed vegetation that was as bleak and dry as the rest of the surroundings. The girl's tangled, green hair draped while she worked, the ends brushing through the dirt. It was the crunch of Orihime's feet sliding across gravel that alerted her to Orihime's presence.

Her body tensed, head jerking up like a small, wild creature as she found Orihime.

Two jagged scars stretched over the girl's face. One ran crossways from her forehead to the opposite cheek, and another, a slash-mark of dark-pink and twisting skin across bridge of her nose.

Orihime gasped, shock holding her feet to the ground. She didn't mean to stare, didn't mean for her expression to flash her unsettled thoughts.

Frightened, hazel eyes met Orihime's, the small chords of the girl's throat standing out in stark contrast. Aside from the brutal scars, the skin was flawless, beautiful. Then she was gone, running away, small legs flying. The girl sprinted fast in the opposite direction. Not bothering to grapple for her tools, she left them lying on the ground, the rags that made her tattered dress, fluttering behind her.

Orihime gasped as she realized her hope for water was fleeing.

"A-Ah! _Wait!_"

Her voice croaked and she coughed at the strain. When the girl didn't stop, Orihime followed after her. Surely, she would head to civilization. And they should have water. She glanced down at what the child had been working with in the dirt as she passed. Roots. She'd been digging for roots. For food or something else, Orihime didn't know.

Shaking her head, she put her mind back to her task. A dull ache throbbed in Orihime's bones, her tongue seeming swollen in her mouth, reminding her of her need for water.

When she could no longer see the girl, Orihime dogged the prints she'd left. And when those faded with the wind, she continued on in a straight line. She didn't know when the huts emerged from the rocky hills. Her vision grew bleary and the heat made what little perspiration that managed to form fall into her eyes. But she blinked, and like a mirage forming, there was a village.

Small wood and clay shacks huddled together, guarded by a hill on one side. An open row cut a path down the center of the dwellings, appearing as a main road. It stretched in both directions, and now that she was walking it, she could see the impression it slashed in the countryside. And the closer she drew, the more she could see. There were people, and that one revelation would have wrung out tears of relief if she'd had the water left to cry them.

She didn't.

Her feet moved faster, the promise of something to drink making her light-headed.

When she reached the bottom of the path leading into the village, the first of them saw her. A woman with short cropped hair, carrying a bundle on her back. Small feet poked out from her burden on either side of the woman's bony frame, and long lines of scar tissue ran the length of her arms and legs. As though she'd been raked with a farming tool of some kind.

As soon as the woman saw Orihime, she stopped. She stared, one long second passing, then screeched.

Orihime took a startled step back.

Other heads turned her direction. Men and other women, youths, children. All of them looked hardened, as if they'd scraped their very lives out of the dust here with blood and tears. Dirt caked them, but even then she could see they were scarred and disfigured. Orihime had never seen anything like it. Desperation and fear looked back at her from every pair of eyes.

Her heart ached, swollen with compassion.

Then the sparse settlement erupted into motion.

People fled to their homes. Mothers grabbed toddlers, wrapping them in their arms. Men hustled youths away, throwing cloths over heads, picking them up and running. It was as though they were afraid for her to see them, as if they expected her to fly forward and abduct them all. Doors slammed and clanked as bolts were drawn.

"No," she called—tried to call. Why on earth would they fear her so? "I just need… water…"

Her voice was too hoarse to carry.

A few of the villagers held picks and hatchets, sticks with tied to sharpened stones, but they didn't linger. They backed away, disappearing swiftly. The huts were shut up tight.

"_W__ait!_"

She'd never see water at this rate! She called out the first door she came too.

"Please… I'm not here to harm anyone…"

Silence. Not even the sound of feet whispering over boards from the other side. Her hands fisted. She didn't even know if people were there.

She went to the next, pounding on the thin door with the flat of her palm. She was being rude, she knew she was, but the thirst was greater.

"Hello…? Please, I just need something to drink."

"We don't harbor escaped slaves here. Go away." A woman's voice, sharp and quick, hostile.

A child cried and was shushed.

_Slave?_

She wasn't a slave.

"I didn't escape from anywhere. I don't belong to anyone. Please, I just need water. Please… Just a little and, and I'll go away… _please_."

Something struck the wood on the other side of the wall. Orihime jerked back, nearly falling over her own feet.

"Go away! We ain't got nothin' to do with slaves!"

The woman didn't believe her.

Orihime shook her head, mouth open, sobbing without tears as she wrapped her arms tight around her body. She went to the next wooden structure and then the next after that.

No one opened their door. No one even responded after the first woman.

Why? She hadn't done anything. They couldn't believe she was a threat or a danger. Not when they outnumbered her by so many. How many people were there? A hundred maybe? More with the children. And they couldn't spare even a cup of water? A drink?

She found a narrow space between two huts that provided shelter from the sun. Slipping down, face in her hands, fingers slid up to bury into the painted, black locks on the sides of her head. The dark powder coated her palms, but what did it matter? One didn't need to be presentable to die.

The scent of refuse crowded the air around her, but she couldn't drag her body any farther. Her limbs were heavy, head pounding while nausea crept over her. She wondered how she could feel like being ill when there was nothing in her to come up.

Beside her, something shifted.

She didn't look. It didn't matter. Even if the sun fell in a few hours, it wouldn't be soon enough, and she would still need the water no one was willing to give.

Only when the sounds shuffled closer did she make the effort to turn her head.

It was a girl.

Orihime blinked to clear her fuzzy gaze.

No… It was the girl from before.

She could see the scars through wispy stands of green hair that was closer to blue in the shadows. When Orihime tried to turn, the girl scurried back. She was small, but her eyes were clear and astute. Maybe twelve. Orihime wasn't sure. Despite her petite appearance, the girl seemed quick-witted, but weary, and she held the kind of swiftness of movement that came with age or experience.

Orihime closed her eyes and licked her lips with her dry tongue. It was a reflex. There wasn't any moisture.

Something wet touched her mouth. The shock of it sent a rush of tingles through her body so sharp they hurt, and she lurched away as if struck. She'd thought there was nothing left in her to move, but as Orihime realized what the rag held, she latched onto it, almost falling in her haste, pressing it to her mouth to suck the moisture from it.

She shifted to find another wetter place.

When she'd sucked it dry, it was taken away. Orihime nearly cried out, but before she did, it was given back, wet again.

"You gotta go slow, or you'll be sick." There was a slight slur to the girl's speech, a lisp when she said certain words. Like a child much smaller than she was.

Orihime was already sick. She couldn't have stopped. She sucked until it was dry and she had the presence of mind to look for the source.

The girl flinched, letting her hair fall forward to cover the scars on her face. She snatched up the jar of water beside her as if she would flee.

Orihime went still.

"No!" She shook her head, turning palms up to show she wasn't a threat. "Please, don't go. Please."

The girl watched her, settling father away. "You can't drink too fast."

She produced a broken, clay cup from the pile behind her and filled it halfway with the water from the jar.

Orihime didn't care that the cup was dirty or that the water wasn't clear. She took it carefully, gratefully, happy enough to cry with relief. When she needed more, small dirt-caked fingers removed it, and Orihime watched, her tongue aching as water welled back into the broken vessel. Her hands shook when the girl gave it back again.

She drank that too, and the girl refilled it.

She made Orihime wait afterwards, and Orihime closed her eyes, trying not to think about the jar sitting at the girl's side.

Her voice was hoarse when she spoke. "My name is Orihime."

The girl hesitated. "I'm Nelliel. But they just call me Nel here."

"Thank you for the water. No one else would even come near me. As if they were frightened." She looked at her dirty slippers that poked out from her now filthy skirts. "I don't suppose I can't blame them, they don't know me."

Nel's brow furrowed. It pulled at the scars across her nose. "Did you escape from _them_?"

She pushed more water toward her, and Orihime drained it before answering, not taking the chance of spilling any.

"That's what the other woman said, but I don't belong to anyone. Why does everyone think I'm a slave?"

"You're dressed funny. I thought that you were one of 'em." She gave an apologetic half-smile and tucked a strand of blue-green behind her ear.

"How did you know I wasn't?"

"You're pretty, but they don't get slow when they get thirsty. They get faster." She whispered the last part, huddled down, staring at the wall across from them.

Nel flinched when Orihime would have put a comforting hand on her arm.

Orihime dropped her arm. "How old are you?"

"I dunno."

"You don't know how old you are? Where's your family?"

Nel's gaze dropped.

"Oh…" Orihime bit her lip. In the back of the alley, she could see scrap wood pulled together in some semblance of shelter. Guilt pricked her. "It doesn't matter. Just a question."

"I had two brothers, but they killed them."

"Is that… Is that what happened to…?" She gestured to Nel's face.

The girl lifted a hand to her scars and blinked. "Oh, no. Not exactly. My parents did this one," She pointed to the bright pink-red scar that stretched across her nose. It curved delicately beneath the eyes. A precise marking. Almost like a brand. "But I don't remember it. Pesche told me."

Orihime wasn't sure she heard right. "Your parents?" At Nel's nod, she gaped. "Why?"

"Everyone's parents do. For protection."

Orihime's mouth worked without sound. "The villagers scar their children…? But that's…"

She didn't have words.

Nel shrugged. "It's the only way to make sure they don't get taken. If you're messed up some, they don't want ya. The face is best. They don't always care if you're marked up on the body or stuff. But I guess, sometimes, they don't care about the face either…" Nel's small arms wrapped around her bare legs, face pressed into her knees. "That's why the adults wouldn't talk to ya. If you were from one of the villages, someone would've unprettied you by now."

The hair on Orihime's arms stood on end and her stomach twisted. "But who are _they_? Who would take people away?"

Nel looked back at her. "You know."

Orihime shook her head. "I'm not from here."

"I… They're—" Nel was flustered. As if the idea of saying it out loud repulsed her. She couldn't even meet Orihime's eyes. "Everyone knows."

"I don't."

"The vampire from the palace," Nel whispered, dropping her voice and pushing it all out in a rush.

Orihime started.

Vampire…? But that was impossible. The vampire were all killed over eight hundred years ago. There weren't any more. It was common knowledge. She'd read it more times than she could count. And yet, everything she'd seen spoke to the contrary.

And she had no doubt Nel believed what she was saying.

"What do they do with the people?"

Nel frowned and rubbed her legs. "They eat 'em, and… and you know."

Orihime leaned back. She didn't know. Anything. Not what to do or what to think. She couldn't even explain how she'd gotten to this place, so who was she to say there couldn't be vampires here. She thought back to the book she'd found in her brother's library. How she'd dreamed of meeting a vampire. The reality didn't compare to the fantasy. The horror these people endured. It was unthinkable.

She swallowed. "I had a brother."

"Did he die?"

Orihime nodded.

Her body was still faint from exhaustion, but there was more feeling in her limbs as she shifted to work the tingles from her legs, removing her slippers.

"Why are you dressed that way?"

Orihime blinked back. "This is what I always wear."

"You shouldn't. Only they have things that nice." Nel eyed the thin chain at Orihime's neck.

Orihime didn't miss it. She couldn't give away her hairclips, but she unclasped the broach that gathered the fabric below her breasts and held it out. "For saving my life."

Nel's mouth dropped and she shook her head, wrapping her arms tighter. She didn't make any attempt to reach for it, but her eyes were big and they didn't leave the jeweled pin. "It wasn't much water. But… But I think, for something like that, they might let you stay here. It might buy food for the village. You should talk to Kūkaku-obasan."

Orihime hesitated. She wasn't even sure she wanted answers to the line of questions occupying her thoughts. "What do they do… to the escaped slaves."

Nel shrugged. "Nothing here. It doesn't happen too much. They just make them leave. No one would be stupid enough to touch _their_ property. But them," Nel swallowed. "They'll make you sorry. They take away things you didn't know you had to lose. They—"

She shook her head. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks beneath her hair, but she buried them in her knees.

Orihime looked down. It felt wrong to watch, to witness such a private grief. "What would happen to the village?"

"Kill us maybe. It's happened before. Kūkaku would know."

"Where is she?"

Nel frowned and scrubbed her face clear with the hem of her shift. She reached over and sat the jar of water beside Orihime then she picked up the broach. "I'll go and see."

"What? Alone? Nel—"

"Stay here."

Nel darted off with the quick movements from earlier, rounding the corner without looking back. She didn't make a sound as her bare feet crossed the dirt.

Orihime wondered if she'd return or if she'd run for her life. Orihime wouldn't blame her.

She sighed, unstopped the jar and drank. It was empty too soon. She wasn't satisfied, but she thought she might drink a lake before she wasn't thirsty any longer. If there was any lake to find in such a dry place. Orihime closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. The shadows lengthened beside her.

The village remained quiet.

Orihime jumped at the scream that tore from the silence.

No, it wasn't quite a scream. It was the same type of cry the woman gave earlier when she saw Orihime. Almost like a warning call.

Thunks sounded in the wooden hut behind her, panicked voices. The wood was poor quality. Orihime could almost make out some of their hushed words.

"That woman…"

"—turn her in."

Orihime climbed to her feet, legs shaking.

"O-Orihime!"

Nel darted back around the corner, arms full of rags. She dropped them at Orihime's feet.

"You gotta go, they found you."

Orihime shook her head. "I'm not a slave, they can't be coming for me. Why would they—"

"It doesn't matter why. But if they see you in that outfit, they'll think you came from the palace anyway. We don't have stuff like that. You need to change, hurry."

Orihime hadn't thought about that. It was true. Anyone that saw her in her dress would assume the same thing. "I'll need you to help me. The buttons are in the back."

Nel rounded her skirts and said a word Orihime had never heard. "There's a hundred of them."

"I know, just… just pull, alright?"

Nel did, and the small pearls went flying. The girl snatched them from the ground as Orihime peeled herself from the clinging satin. When she tried to return them to Orihime, Orihime shook her head and pressed them back into her small hands. She had enough fine things to last her a lifetime. If those could help Nel or the people of the village, they should stay. The corset had to go next, and Orihime cringed as Nel found something sharp enough to slice through the strings.

As she pulled it over her head, the pins that held her black-powdered hair came loose, sending a cascade of ebony locks down her back. Orihime shimmied into the tattered, tan shift as Nel tied it back with a cord. Orihime pulled her silk slippers back on and hid the gown's remains. The slippers were out of place, but they were dirty enough from her hike that the fabric no longer shone.

Orihime felt the thin, rough cloth with her hands. It fell just below her knees with small slits on either side to aid mobility. She hadn't exposed her legs since she was a girl younger than Nel.

"I feel naked," she whispered.

But Nel wasn't listening. She was crouched at the opening, peeking around the edge.

"Where did it—" She squeaked and jerked back.

"We should run," Orihime said.

"Too late," Nel hissed. "Closer than I thought. Back, _back_."

Spinning, Orihime eyed the assortment of rubbish. "Can we climb through?"

Nel shook her head and half whispered, half mouthed, "No time, get down!"

Orihime flattened her back to the wall and slid into a crouch, trying to make herself as small as she could. It was so much easier without the dress adding yards of bulk to her figure. She pulled Nel to her side, hiding the girl's smaller form behind her, ignoring the protests as she clutched at her tight. If she had to, if Nel's life was put in danger, Orihime would use her body to shield her.

A white clad figure emerged, and she stiffened.

But it didn't stop. The man passed across the mouth of the alleyway. He was tall and lean and so familiar Orihime choked on her breath.

As he passed out of sight, Orihime scrambled up. "T-That's…"

Nel jerked her arm. "What are you _doing_? Stay down, he's just passing through. They patrol sometimes. You're safe unless he sees you. That one doesn't usually bother us. _What're you doing_?"

"I know him," she breathed. "I know him."

Nel dropped her wrist.

When Orihime looked back, she'd moved further down the alley. She watched Orihime as if she were a dangerous snake, one that could strike out at any second.

"Know him? But you said that you weren't…"

Orihime bit her lip. The white flutter of fabric was already at the edge of the city. There wasn't time to explain. She bowed. "Thank you. If I can pay back what you've done—"

"No," Nel said. "I… I don't want anything from you."

Orihime felt a prick of guilt. Her brow furrowed, but she nodded, lifting a hand in farewell, but dropping it when Nel didn't even look at her. She swallowed. It seemed like she should say something, defend her actions maybe, but what could she tell the girl that she'd believe or understand. Orihime didn't understand what was happening herself.

Nel hadn't turned back to her anyway. Face to the ground, her green-blue hair fell to cover her expression.

Lips pressed so that they wouldn't tremble, Orihime took a step and flung her arms around the girl, catching her unprepared and squeezing. She hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Nel."

Nel trembled, and after a second, Orihime released her and hurried from the hiding spot.

She ran after the diminishing, white figure.

Moving quickly, his long strides certain of their destination, he passed through the village. If he noticed the occupants, there was no indication. He crested the top of the surrounding hill and started down the other side without effort as she strained to catch up.

Was he lost here too? She didn't think he could've fallen asleep under a tree as well.

"Kuro—" She stumbled. How did he make tackling the steep hill look so easy? "Kurosaki-kun!"

She shoved herself back to her feet at the top of the incline, grasping the tan fabric above her knees, trying not to think of how bare she felt. Her body still ached from earlier, reminding her with every jarring step, she'd already drained her energy.

She waited, dragging in deep lungfuls of air.

The long, black sword slung across his shoulder shifted as he turned to glance at her. But the oddness of his carrying such a large and dangerous weapon, failed to register among her other, more chaotic thoughts.

Until that moment, Orihime supposed there was a chance she was wrong. An irrational fear that maybe she'd made a mistake and this was some other tall, orange-haired man. Teasing her the same way the tree had. But as soon as she saw that flash of molten amber peering at her from beneath black lashes, she knew it was him. Elation blazed like a firestorm in her chest.

She released her breath, so relieved to find someone— _anyone_— that her knees nearly gave out. They shook as she started down the hill.

His eyes flicked over her.

Orihime tilted her head, the excited laugh that had been forming died in her throat as her brow fell into a more somber expression. She hesitated.

Why was he looking at her that way?

Without recognition in his gaze. There was no friendly spark. No hint of the tender, fragile smile that made her heart flutter.

But more than that, he looked guarded, posture tight, mouth set.

His eyes narrowed as he faced her fully. "What do you want?"

Something about the motion, the easy glide of muscle, made her take a step back. A cold tingle shot down her spine. Her reaction to him was reflexive. A bone-deep instinct. The inherent response of a rabbit faced with a lion.

His usual cut of suit had been replaced by a long jacket, edged in black trim. It pulled snug around his middle, opening just high enough for her to make out the black silk tie that secured the hakama, and a flash of tanned flesh above that when the wind hit it a certain way.

She'd never seen a man's skin in such an intimate place. Warmth worked over her face.

"I…" Orihime swallowed.

She couldn't even speak when he looked at her that way. With the full force of his gaze through blazing, orange strands. It was like a physical weight. An energy she couldn't name. Some dark pressure making it difficult to breathe just having his eyes on her.

This wasn't the Kurosaki-kun she knew. It struck her hard.

He watched her take another step back, bored eyes charting the movement.

Orihime's hands clenched as she worked to regulate her heart. What was happening? When she looked at him, she felt that same lurch she'd felt under the juniper. It wasn't fear, was it? He'd never been anything but kind to her.

He snorted and her eyes flashed up to meet his. The contact was fleeting.

Then he was turning, walking away.

He was almost to the top of the next hill before she found the sense to shake herself.

"A-Ah!"

He was leaving her!

Orihime glanced back toward the village. The memory of those sharpened stones they'd lashed to sticks flashed in her mind. She couldn't go back there. And this _not_-Kurosaki-kun seemed to know where he was headed.

Biting her lip, she went after him.

But even with her tagging on his heels, he didn't acknowledge her. It was the same as the people back in the village, but she felt certain he was aware of her. There was a tense set to his back as he kept the same brisk pace, and every time she stumbled or tripped, the annoyance drifting off his body seemed to intensify.

She attempted to pick her feet up and mimic his silent tread, but she was so tired. It was almost all she could do to keep stride as it was.

When her toe struck another stone, she couldn't stifle the pained gasp.

He stopped so fast, she nearly smacked into his back.

Orihime looked up at him, hands drawing in to her chest to form a flimsy barrier.

He glared down. "_Why_ are you following me?"

She blinked as realization came over her like a wave. He was doing that on purpose. That thing that made it difficult to breathe. He was trying to intimidate her. The feign was so transparent, so similar to the man she was familiar with, she lowered her arms. The anxiety attacking her speech evaporated.

Orihime tilted her head. "Because I know you."

His expression was difficult to read as he considered her. "No, you don't. I've never seen you before."

Orihime frowned. "But I knew your name."

"And that's supposed to impress me?" He scoffed." You could've gotten that anywhere."

She tried to sort through all the things she knew about him, tried to find something else with which to convince him, but to her disappointment, the list was discouragingly short.

"Tch." He clicked his tongue and started to walk again. Like she was intentionally wasting his time.

Her eyes widened. "Wait!"

He didn't turn, but she got the distinct impression he was rolling his eyes. "What?"

"Where are you going?"

He slanted her a look over his shoulder.

She tried to smile back. That caught him off-guard.

"There's something wrong with you. This isn't normal behavior."

"What isn't?"

"You following me. Most people run."

Orihime wrapped her bare arms around her middle as she considered that.

She hadn't thought she might be bothering him. "I… I have to follow you. You're the first person I've seen that I know. I-I mean, there's still the chance that I'm not really here at all and I might wake up beneath the tree and only be late for dinner, but I don't think I should count on that, and—"

His eyebrow ticked. Probably because she was rambling.

"I… could start from the beginning?"

"No, I don't care. And stop following me."

"Huh? But I don't know where else to go."

"Not my problem."

Orihime bit her lip, struggling to match his pace.

He was telling her to go, and she didn't want to be rude, but she couldn't survive on her own. Even if she made it through the night alone, as soon as the sun came up in the morning, she'd be back where she'd started. Dying of thirst in the desert.

"_Look_." He stopped again, twisting to make a formidable wall of muscle in her path. His breathing had picked up. She watched his shoulders rise and fall, almost mesmerizing in its repetition. He leaned in so he could bite the words off in her face. "I don't know who you escaped from or what you think you're after, but I'm not where you should be looking for it."

Her heart was pounding at the dangerous glint in his eye. It beat so loud in her ears she almost didn't hear him.

"Kuro…"

His eyes. They were like being drawn into quicksand or… or a dream. Flecks of gold gleamed back at her. They made her dizzier than the pressure on her shoulders— which was almost soothing now, like a heated breath over chilled skin. It made her feel like she was floating away on a cloud, light and weightless.

He cursed, snapping his head to the side and breaking the contact.

The dizziness vanished. Stony ground became solid under her feet again.

Orihime shook her head and blinked.

His jaw ticked, but he didn't look back at her. "I don't know what kind of suicidal game you're playing, but _stop_ following me."

She stopped following him.

His eyes flicked over her once more, then he turned and walked away.

Orihime couldn't move. She wanted to, she told her feet to go after him, but it was several long moments after he'd disappeared that she finally coerced her body to work.

What was going on? How had he done that? Forced her to stand still?

And where would she go now?

If she went back to the village, they would only tell her to leave. They might even do violence to her.

But the darkness was descending and she didn't know what kind of creatures might lurk in the night here. Steeling her resolve, she followed the way Kurosaki-kun had gone. If she hurried, she might still be able to catch him. He seemed to have a destination in mind, even if she didn't.

The dark began to settle around her.

Ainoko always chastised her when she rushed. Orihime wondered if her stepmother would have a set of rules for what one was supposed to do when stranded in an inauspicious environment.

But Ainoko wasn't with her. She could make her own decisions, and everything in her told Orihime she needed to _move_. The landscape wouldn't be visible for long and she had no desire to get lost by herself in the dark.

She urged her legs faster.

The hills that had seemed small when she'd started walking loomed ahead of her now. And these weren't hills. They were mountains. She had no chance of climbing them. Not-Kurosaki-kun hadn't climbed these, had he? But it was so _high_. But this was the right direction, she was sure of it.

Maybe it was time to look for shelter.

Orihime peered about her. Even straining her eyes, nothing stood out as a place she wanted to spend the night. Apprehension gripped her. If she truly was still sitting unconscious beneath the juniper tree, Orihime wanted to wake up now.

She drew her wrist to her mouth and bit it.

The sting was sharp, but nothing else happened.

Shaking her head, she glanced to the horizon and decided to make the most of the quickly fading, pink rays. The mountains were before her, but she'd head to the lower land between them. There might be a pass, or maybe a cave to use as shelter.

Orihime was almost to the base, the night falling thick around her when she saw a light. Orange-red, it flickered against the flat slab of stone that extended up the mountain.

She'd found him.

Although he might not want her company. He hadn't seemed particularly hospitable earlier. Still, she'd rather risk his wrath than be eaten by wild animals.

Orihime walked toward the source of the light, but her pace slowed when she reached it.

Packs lay on the ground. Plates and tin cups sat untouched around the stones that circled the flames.

This wasn't Kurosaki-kun's.

Something scratched over the dirt behind her, and she turned just in time to see something dark spread out. Orihime screamed as heavy cloth settled over her face and down her back. Hands gripped her shoulders and she screamed again.

"Get her quiet!" someone hissed.

The ground came up from below her. A tight binding wrapped about her small frame. Gasping in darkness, she could do nothing as the cloth pressed across her mouth and her very air was stolen.

**A/N**

**So… I don't even know what to say. I like time travel, okay? Doctor Who without the science, yes? And the Part Title Moonset is NOT a twilight reference omg please don't even say it, I know some of you were thinking it. It's a reference to Ichigo. Next will be a reference to Orihime. The first person to say Twilight will be shot in the face, yes? :D **

**Okay. **

**The story will start moving faster from this point, but it is a LONG story. It's almost two stories in one, but all nicely tied together for your reading pleasure. **

**And thanks so much to everyone that's fav'd and followed. **

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